


Love Of My Life

by snapdragonpop007



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is weirdly good at this parenting thing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Trans Male Character, because im trans and i say so, but that clearly did not happen, its crowley, non-con elements, this was supposed to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapdragonpop007/pseuds/snapdragonpop007
Summary: He was not frightened, as most children would be. This was the first pair of eyes Adam saw, and as far as he knew that was what they were supposed to look like. And so Adam stared as Crowley stared back, and as he saw how quickly Crowley was falling in love, he fell in love in kind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this as a joke and it got waaaaay out of hand

Anthony J. Crowley had been tasked with many important things over the years. Tempting Eve, being Hell’s agent on Earth, starting wars (although more often than not he had been able to skip that one. Humans were good enough to do that on their own), inventing selfies and being the Adversary to the Adversary to name a few.

(Selfies wasn’t quite that important, but Crowley had grown rather fond of them and considered them important.) 

Satan played favorites and never made any notion to hide that fact that he did so, and every angel and demon was well aware that Crowley, The Serpent, The Original Tempter, and One Of The First Of The Fallen was his utmost favorite of his favorites. 

That was why he had been tasked with so many important things, because he was Lord Satan's favorite (and he could be quite good and efficient at his jobs when he wanted to be) and that was why he was being tasked with the most important piece of The Great Plan. 

This was also, coincidentally, why Crowley was quickly starting to hate his position of favorite of the favorite. 

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Crowley stood before Satan now, blinking stupidly at him and at Beelzebub, who was standing beside the throne with a clipboard and a dried out pen. She wasn’t writing anything, just clicking the pen when ever she thought Crowley was losing focus. 

Crowley had never been more grateful for the sunglasses he wore than he had been in this exact moment. 

“You shall bear the Antichrist, our Great Lord and Master.” Beelzebub answered, clicking her pen twice. “It’s not that difficult to understand.” 

“No, yeah, I got that,” Crowley swallowed. His eyes flicked between Beelzebub and Satan, before he decided to just look at the floor and save himself the awkwardness to trying to figure out who he should be looking at. “I’m just not sure why you would would pick me, that’s all.” 

“You have the correct anatomy.” Satan spoke this time, and Crowley would deny to anyone that he jumped. 

“I mean—technically speaking I do, but—“ 

Crowley did indeed have the correct anatomy. It had been there when he was first given the body, and while Crowley didn’t necessarily mind it, it also didn’t quite feel right. He could discorporate himself at any time and obtain a new body, of course, but the paperwork was tedious, and so for 6,000 years Crowley had shaped and molded his body to fit his liking and comfort.

He was quite proud of it, actually. 

“It will be an honor to bear Lord Satan’s child.” Beelzebub’s usual frown got even frownier. “He will have your blood, Crawly. You will be forever tied to him—Heaven and Hell will remember you long after the War is fought—“ 

“Okay, okay yeah that’s great.” It wasn’t, really. Crowley well and truly didn’t want to have to stay in Hell for the next nine months while every demon and their brother came to gawk and fawn and inquire into his well being and—Someone forbid—play nice when he damn well knew they all hated his guts (more so than someone a demon usually hated. That was the curse you paid for being the favorite). “But I really don’t think—“ 

“It is settled then.” Satan abruptly cut Crowley off. “You shall carry the child, then deliver them to the proper family on Earth when the time arrives.” 

Crowley snapped his mouth shut, then opened it again. He did this a few more times, knowing full well how dumb it looked, before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, but I’m not really comfortable—“

“Do you not wish for the Great Plan to commence, Crawly?” Satan asked.

“No! No, of course not. I’m all for the Great Plan.” Crowley waved his hands around as he tried frantically to back peddle this conversation into safer ground. “Death and destruction, love it. Adore it, even—“ 

“Then what is the problem?” Beezlbub’s facile expression was quickly going into the dangerous _I Will End You_ category, and while Crowley did technically outrank her in the favoritism department, he wasn’t willing to test his luck today. 

“There’s no problem.” Crowley was going to pretend that his voice didn’t crack halfway through that sentence. “No problem at all.” 

“Excellent!” Satan stood from the throne and Crowley took a step back on pure instinct. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t turn back time (stop it, yes, but not rewind it), so he forced himself to stand still and pretend that that hadn’t happened as well. He also forced himself to stay perfectly still while Satan clapped a hand on his shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. “You have good genes, Crawly. You will make a fine mother.” 

Crowley smiled something crooked and entirely forced. 

What on Earth was Aziraphale going to think about all this?

Well, unfortunately for Crowley, Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to think about all this until nine months later. Aziraphale would be none the wiser until then, his only thoughts on Crowley being that he hopped the demon was alright.

Nine months was a very long time to be gone, after all, when you were prone to seeing one another at least once a week. 

Aziraphale, on his part, spent a good chunk of that time looking for Crowley. 

He called every day in case that was the day Crowley would finally pick up. He stopped by the flat once a week to water the plants and dust and check for any signs of Crowley having been there. He left London as often as he could, going to all the places he could possibly think of that Crowley could have gone to, but with no luck. 

But Aziraphale did not stop looking in all those nine months.

He did not stop until Crowley came stumbling onto his doorstep on a dark and foggy night with a baby wrapped up in his jacket and held close to his chest.

 

—

 

They had let Crowley hold the baby, which in hindsight—eleven years down the road—had been a terrible mistake on Hell’s part.

Crowley had marveled at the warmth of this child. It was such a startling contrast to the coolness of his own skin, and he wanted to hold this child as close as he could. He had looked at the chubby cheeks and tummy and button nose and had to squash down the urge to kiss and poke and coo. He had felt something in his chest clench when pudgy fingers curled around his own finger, holding tightly and refusing to let go. He had gasped as the baby squirmed and dropped onto his chest, trying his hardest to get to the junction of Crowley’s neck and shoulder, for that—to the child at least—was the most comfortable spot in the world. 

Crowley had taken one look at this child, had looked at eyes that were very similar in color to his own, and he had fallen in love. 

Generally speaking, most demons were not capable of love. But Crowley was not most demons. He was perfectly capable of love and generosity and niceties and other angelic qualities (although he often pretended he was not) for one very simple reason. 

Crowley, The Serpent, The Original Tempter, One Of The First Of The Fallen, had not actually meant to fall.

It had been an accident on his part. He had been quite happy with his job tending the plants in the garden. He had simply been in the wrong place on the wrong day and asked one too many wrong questions, and in doing so he had been clumped in with the rest. His severing from the Heavenly Host had been a sloppy job, because he had not actually been on their Fallen list. Corners had been cut, and so in result Crowley was perfectly capable of feeling and receiving love. 

He had, after all, been in love for almost 6,000 years. 

And while Crowley was falling in love for the second time in his demonic life, the baby in his arms was experiencing something very similar.

This baby, who would come to be called Adam, was experiencing many things in very quick succession. He was smelling the rot and brimstone of Hell and was becoming very distressed by it, but he could also smell the scent of the man holding him who he knew to be his father. The scent, which smelled of soil and old books and sweet pollen (although Adam did not know what any of these things smelled like) chased away the horrible smell and brought comfort and familiarity. 

Adam was also experiencing the coolness of Crowley’s skin. It was strange—although everything was strange to him—but he liked it, and he squirmed until he was resting in the junction of Crowley’s neck and shoulder and he very quickly decided that it was his favorite place in the world. He then made a grab at Crowley's finger, and decided that it was his favorite thing to hold.

And then Adam looked up, and saw Crowley’s eyes for the first time.

He was not frightened, as most children would be. This was the first pair of eyes Adam saw, and as far as he knew that was what they were supposed to look like. And so Adam stared as Crowley stared back, and as he saw how quickly Crowley was falling in love, he fell in love in kind. 

“Let me see my son, Crawly.”

It took a moment for Crowley to look away from the baby. He was still in the process of falling in love with his child (it did not, contrary to popular belief, happen instantaneously), and he was loath to look away. “Right, yeah…” 

He was slow to hand the baby over to Satan and even slower to bring his hands back down onto the bed he was laying on. 

“He has your eyes,” Satan mused, holding Adam more like a toy than an actual child. 

Satan had insisted on staying through the actual birth itself, which had made the whole affair even more awkward for Crowley than it had already been. There were certain things your boss didn’t need to--and never should--see, and Satan had seen all of it and then some. 

“Funny how that works, isn’t it?” Crowley very much so wanted his child back in his arms, but he was not so stupid as to take him back from the devil himself. 

Satan huffed out a chuckle, looked Adam over once more, then dropped him back onto Crowley. 

Crowley was, thankfully, quick enough to catch the baby. Adam squealed in either delight or terror (although if you asked him it was because he was happy to be back in Crowley’s hold, and not the one of the strange man who smelled strongly of rot and brimstone), and the demon held him against his chest with his hands cupped protectively around his head and bottom.

Adam himself plopped his head right underneath Crowley’s chin, breathing in the soil and old book and sweet pollen smell that was very quickly becoming his favorite thing. 

“I’ll give you a few hours to recover.” Satan gave Crowley a rather terrifying smile, then left the room.

Crowley looked down at Adam, who was closing his eyes and gurgling spit bubbles from his lips and holding Crowley’s shirt as tightly as he could as he drifted off into sleep.

This would be a very hard parting indeed. 

 

—

 

They had given Crowley a hand basket to transport the child in, and Crowley would have ditched it if he had any other means of carrying Adam than his own arms. 

So Crowley had shed his jacket, taking great care to swaddle Adam in the warm and worn leather, then placed him gently in the basket. Adam was fast asleep at this point (Crowley had been the one to put him there, not wanting to make this whole journey harder for any of them), and if Crowley drove slower than what he usually did, no one needed to know except for him. 

Crowley took great care to hold the basket as still as he could, brushing past the man at the front doors with little more than a thought. He caught something about room three, but before he could contemplate it he was inside the building, looking around wildly and bringing the basket a little bit closer to his chest. 

“Master Crowley!” A woman--a nun, Crowley corrected--was hurrying towards him, robes held in her hand to keep herself from tripping. “Oh, Master Crowley, thank Satan you’re here!” 

“I--”

“She’s just had the child--is that him?” the nun continued on, barreling over anything that Crowley could have possibly said. “Quick, give him here! We don’t have much time!” 

“He needs to go to room three…” She took the basket from Crowley before he even had the chance to let it go. It burned his hand—felt like it burned, at any rate—and he tried to reach for it without even realizing he was. His fingers curled around empty air, and he watched the woman carry his baby away with a strange ache in his chest.

He watched, and stared, and then followed after her. 

To most it would seem as if Crowley was following after her mindlessly and without any realization that he was doing it, and you would be half correct in thinking this. 

Crowley didn’t quite fully realize that he was following the nun, but he _did_ have several things running through his mind.

His first thought was that this was It. This was the Beginning to the End. A part of Crowley had always know this while he was carrying the soon to be named baby Adam, but seeing this now, being here now, solidified what he had known into that now, and Crowley was not particularly fond of that thought. He _liked_ Earth. He _liked_ the plants and the humans and the restaurants and the alcohol and the rampant temptation and free will. Crowley liked it here very much, and for the first time he realized how awful it would be to have it all taken away from him. 

His second thought was of Aziraphale. He was dangerously and recklessly head over heels in love with the angel—had been for as long as he could possibly remember. Crowley had never told anyone, of course (except for Aziraphale) but as he thought of how awful it would be to loose Earth he also thought that it would be even worse to lose Aziraphale. Crowley had never been without Aziraphale—he couldn’t even _cope_ with the idea of being without Aziraphale. 

His third and final thought was of his child. There was no doubt in his mind that he had finally completed the process of falling in love. Crowley would say to himself with zero hesitation that he loved that child, and it was the kind of love that one so rarely saw in this world. It was that all encompassing kind of love—where you loved someone for everything they were. And Crowley did indeed love his son—world ending capabilities and all. 

“Master Crowley?” 

Crowley blinked. 

He was standing in front of the open door to room three.

“I uh—I left my jacket.” Crowley looked briefly at the nun—a different one from before—then to the two babies by the mother's bedside. He recognized the now named baby Adam immediately. He was looking at Crowley, eyes wide, and he started to babble in excitement. “What did they name him?”

“Adam.” She answered. “It’s a lovely name, don’t you think?”

Crowley hummed. It was a good name—fitting, he thought. “Why don’t you get my jacket for me.”

“Oh, um, yes I suppose—“

“I’ll take care of the extra child as well.” Crowley made a beeline towards Adam before he could give himself time to think of the stupidities of this idea. 

“You don’t have to—“

“Just get my jacket.” Crowley snapped it out, scooping up Adam and holding him to his chest. Adam gurgled, clinging to Crowley’s shirt, overjoyed that his father came back for him. 

The nun looked properly terrified. She nodded, pressing herself up against the door frame as Crowley walked out of the room. He hustled to the main doors at the same rate, blinking his eyes and performing a small miracle to get his car started and heated up to an acceptable level for an infant child (it was a rather cold night, and while it personally wouldn’t have bothered Crowley, he was acutely aware that it most certainly would bother Adam). 

Crowley waited all of five seconds for the nun to come back with his jacket before snapping it back into his hands himself. Then he rushed out the door, wrapping it back around Adam as he went. 

Adam, quite frankly, loved the jacket. It smelled just like Crowley, and it was rather quite warm. It was just worn enough to not be irritating on his skin, and Adam was sure it would make an excellent cuddle thing as well as a blanket.

Crowley ripped open the car door and slid inside. 

Freddie Mercury was softly cooing through the speakers about the love of his life (a song that Crowley often attributed to Aziraphale, but if you asked him about it he would quickly change the subject), and it was rather quite warm in the Bentley. Adam seemed to enjoy it—he gave a happy little shriek and reached up a hand to smack Crowley’s cheek (at least Crowley assumed it was happy). 

And then Crowley realized he didn’t have anywhere to set Adam down in.

“Fuck.” He said, then looked down at Adam. “Don’t repeat that.” 

Adam gurgled in response. 

Crowley could miracle in a car seat, but he was fairly certain that Hell tracked those kinds of things, and he did not need Hastur showing up and asking why he miracled in a car seat of all things. He had ditched the basket, so that was out, and he wasn’t stupid enough to set Adam down in the passenger seat and buckle him in.

“Right, Well,” Crowley was beginning to feel incredibly paranoid about this entire thing, and he was more than ready to leave. “You’ve got a pretty good grip, so—so hang on, I guess.” 

Crowley braced once hand around Adam and held him as close to his chest as he possibly could, sneaking his other up to hold the steering wheel. He took a deep breath—although he didn’t need it—and then gunned it. 

Now, Crowley did in fact realize this was incredibly idiotic and hazardous on his part, and he had absolutely no intention of ever doing this again. But right now Crowley needed to get to Aziraphale as quickly as he could, and he was confident enough in his driving skills to pull this off (he was also fairly panicked at this point, and almost all thought of safety precautions had been literally and metaphorically tossed out the window). 

She had also been watching over Crowley as he made this journey, and if She extended a helping hand a time or two, no one needed to know. 

And so, with a little divine intervention, both Adam and Crowley made it to Aziraphale’s bookshop in one piece.

It was only just as Crowley was getting out of the Bentley that he realized just how long he had been gone, and he hurried to the door with a renewed vigor. Adam, who had been in that state of in between sleep and awake, snapped back to a full alertness at the feeling of Crowley’s excitement. He looked around and then looked up at Crowley, who’s attention was completely taken by the door he was making a beeline to. 

Adam did not like that, and he squirmed and whined something that was incredibly close to a full on cry. 

Crowley did not stop, but he did slow his pace. “You can go back to ssssleep, love.”

The endearment slipped out of Crowley’s lips just as easily as his hiss, and he noticed neither. Adam noticed both and was quite taken by them, but he wanted Crowley’s attention, and not sleep. 

So he whined a little louder. 

Crowley was at the door now, and he had taken to kicking it so he could keep both arms in use to rock Adam. “Oh, you probably need food—Aziraphale should have something you can eat I think—well, I mean he’s a bloody angel he should have something—“

The door opened and Crowley almost pitched forward from the sudden lack of a solid object, but as he righted himself he was greeted with the sight of blue eyes that he hadn’t realized he missed as much as he did until now. 

“ _Angel_ —“ he breathed it out, because oh he _had_ missed him, but Adam was not as happy as Crowley was to see Aziraphale. 

Adam was not used to the bright and happy feeling that Aziraphale gave off, and it frightened him a good deal. 

“Crowley! Oh, thank Heaven, I was so worried my dear—is that a baby?” Aziraphale’s look of relief turned to confusion just as quickly as it came. 

Crowley, who was holding Adam close to his chest, finally reached the point in his plan where he actually stopped to think about it. “Um...yes?” 

Adam took that moment to whine loudly, reaching up a hand to slap at Crowley’s cheek. His movements were getting more frantic and his whines were quickly turning to cries. 

“Where did you get a baby?” Aziraphale asked. 

“It’s—I’ll explain inside, okay?” Adam was full on wailing now, and Crowley had forgotten his plan and turned all attention and brain power to the squirming child in his arms.

Aziraphale stepped aside and Crowley hurried inside. He was bouncing Adam and pacing around, alternating between humming and begging Adam to stop his crying. Adam heard none of it, and only clung tighter to Crowley while still flailing his hand around. 

And then something miraculous happened.

Adam finally got a hold of what he had been reaching for.

He pulled Crowley’s glasses of his face before the demon could even react, throwing them to the ground with a sharp crack. He slapped his hand against Crowley’s cheek again, looked up at his eyes, and stopped crying.

Adam hiccuped and sniffed, but he had fallen blissfully silent. 

“Is that what you wanted?” Crowley looked down at Adam in wonderment. “You wanted to look at my eyes?” 

Adam gurgled. He was still frightened of Aziraphale—less so by seeing Crowley so at ease around him—but he had an inkling that he wouldn’t be so frightened if he could see Crowley’s eyes, and Adam had been right.

It was irrational, but most things involving babies were. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sounded very close to Crowley’s ear, and when he turned his head he found the angel standing right by his side. “What is going on—“

And then Adam started crying again.

“Oh shi—“ Crowley cut himself off before he could finish the word, rounding on Aziraphale and cupping his hand around Adam’s head. “He needs food, Angel—“ 

Aziraphale was much too confused and relieved to question it, and he miracled a warm bottle of formula into his hand. He passed it off to Crowley, who immediately brought it to Adam’s mouth. Just like any baby, Adam was weary of this object he was seeing for the first time in his life, but the sweet smell was too enticing and he did trust the man holding him (just like any baby trusted their parents), so let Crowley slip the tip of the bottle into his mouth.

Adam immediately felt less ornery and more sleepy. 

Crowley stayed still for a few moments, relaxing when it seemed the tantrum had been averted. 

“You’re going to be a problem child, aren’t you?” Crowley whispered in it a soft tone that he had only ever used with Aziraphale. “Going to make my life even more difficult than it already is.” 

Adam just closed his eyes. 

Aziraphale, meanwhile, was watching this interaction with wide eyes and a quickly beating heart. He had seen Crowley in his soft moments—in the early morning light with sleep tousled hair, breathless (when he allowed himself to be) after dancing and twirling Aziraphale around to songs the angel didn’t know, baking with flour smudged on his cheeks, smiling when he thought no one was looking—Aziraphale had seen Crowley in many soft moments, but seeing this was so much different. 

This was like seeing all those soft moments at once, and it was making Aziraphale’s heart flip and pitter patter. 

“Oh, Angel,” suddenly Crowley looked up and Aziraphale flushed, feeling like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I didn’t mean to be gone this long but I couldn’t—he wouldn’t let me _leave_ —“

“Lets sit.” Aziraphale gently placed his hand on Crowley’s arm—the one that wasn’t holding the bottle—and lead him to the couch. Crowley went willingly, adjusting the baby as he sat. Aziraphale took the seat next to him, keeping his hand on Crowley’s arm. “Start at the beginning, my dear.”

“Okay, well—this is Adam.” Crowley started, then paused. He looked down at Adam, then back up to Aziraphale. “He’s the Antichrist.” 

Whatever Aziraphale had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. “ _What_?” 

“But that’s not the important bit—“

“How is that not the important bit—?”

“—he’s my _kid_ , Angel.”

Aziraphale snapped his mouth shut. Several things were running through his mind, and none of them were good. 

“It’s not like that!” Crowley, realizing just what Aziraphale was thinking, felt his eyes widen and his heart skip a few beats. “Aziraphale, I would never do that to you—they _made_ me—“

“ _Made_ you?!” And now Aziraphale was panicked for a completely different treason. 

“No—no! Not like that!” Crowley groaned, throwing his head back. Adam whined as the bottle shifted in his mouth, and Crowley snapped his head back up and righted it just as quickly as he had moved it. “It’s not—they needed someone to carry him, and I just so happened to be there. It was a artificial thing—if I had any way out of it you have to know I would have—“ Crowley cut himself off, suddenly feeling the weight of the past nine months all at once. “They wouldn’t let me leave.” 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale reached out for him, pulling him as close as he was holding Adam. 

Crowley went willingly, feeling his whole body shudder as he took in a deep breath. He rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, turning his nose to the angels neck and just breathing in the smell of cocoa and something that was entirely Aziraphale. 

“I couldn’t just leave him,” Crowley mumbled. “It didn’t--it didn’t feel right.” 

Aziraphale hummed, running his hand up and down Crowley’s spine. 

“Oh G--what the hell am I supposed to do with a kid, Angel? I don’t know anything about kids!” Crowley had now fully reached that point in the plan where he was realizing just how little thought went into this plan, and he was beginning to panic again. “Oh, this was stupid--”

“We’ll figure something out,” Aziraphale was quick to try and sooth Crowley, as he noticed Adam beginning to get fussy again, assuming it was from Crowley’s own distress (and Aziraphale was half right. Adam was also beginning to feel very tired, and he wanted sleep). 

Aziraphale himself was just as clueless about children as Crowley was (even more so about demonic children), and, quite frankly, he didn’t want them anywhere near the bookshop. But underneath all the panic and anxiety Aziraphale could feel the love Crowley had for Adam, and he could feel the love that Adam had for Crowley.

And, well, whatever it was Crowley had gotten himself into, it was too late to back out now. 

“You must have took him for a reason.” Aziraphale continued. 

“I took him because he’s my _kid_ ,” Crowley’s tongue flicked out as he hissed, then he sighed and burrowed closer to Aziraphale. “Oh, I don’t--love confuses me, you know that.” 

Aziraphale said nothing, waiting for Crowley to continue.

“I thought...I thought that I didn’t want to world to end, and I thought that maybe I could stop it if I raised Adam myself, and I thought that I loved him too much to let someone else raise him anyway--” Crowley sighed. 

“You love him?” Aziraphale asked.

“I think so.” Crowley answered. 

He knew that he did, but he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. 

Aziraphale looked to Crowley, searching his eyes before looking down to Adam, who had miraculously drifted off to sleep. “Oh, Crowley…” 

“I’m not giving him back,” Crowley snapped it out as he sat up, filled with a sudden strange possessive jealousy. “I’ll move out of London and I’ll raise him and--you have to come with me.”

Aziraphale blinked. 

“I can’t very well do this by myself.” Crowley was looking desperate, and he was feeling quite desperate too. He was seized by that strange and all consuming paternal instinct that all human parents seemed to have, and all that he could even begin to comprehend about it right now was that he needed Aziraphale to do this with him. 

Aziraphale himself was feeling a bit of that paternal instinct as well. Even though the child wasn’t his, he was feeling a strange urge to protect and provide. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that this child was Crowley’s (it most certainly did), and as he watched his demon hold a child and lean down to make sure Adam was still alright, Aziraphale found that there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to be able to see this sight day after day. 

“Alright.” 

Crowley looked up in surprise. 

“I’ll come with you, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached out a hand again, letting it gently cup around the side Crowley’s neck. 

Both he and Crowley would come to realize that they had thought nothing out at all, and they would both fret over it the next day while Adam slept on, still cuddling Crowley’s jacket. They would fret, and worry, and then push that all to the side to look at houses in a little village called Tadfield, because it was not so far away from London that Aziraphale couldn’t make the trip back and forth to check on the bookshop. 

Things were alright for the moment.

Both the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan had been set in motion, and both were heading in very, _very_ different directions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come check me out on tumblr @snap-dragon-pop

“No, not that one.” Crowley wasn’t even at the computer. He was on the other side of the room, rocking Adam back and forth and gently patting his back (they had both learned, last night, that apparently a baby needed to be burped after eating. It had been an interesting time for everyone involved). 

Aziraphale, who had just finally figured out how to work the computer _and_ navigate the real estate sight, huffed in annoyance. He was rather proud of his accomplishment (having never used a computer before in his entire existence), and so far Crowley had vetoed every house he so much as hovered the cursor over. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” Aziraphale clicked on the house anyway. It looked nice enough.

“It’s too close to town.” Crowley answered. He crossed the room, coming to a stop and hovering over Aziraphale’s shoulder. He cocked his hip out so he could hold Adam easier with one arm, and he reached over to take the cursor from Aziraphale (it was equal parts strange and endearing to watch how easily Crowley was slipping into this parent role). 

Adam looked at Aziraphale, who offered up a smile to the infant. In return Adam squinted at him, then turned his attention back to Crowley. 

Adam was not nearly as afraid of Aziraphale as he had been (he had, after all, slept in the same bed as the angel last night, and had ended up rolling more towards him simply for the warmth Aziraphale gave off), but he still much preferred Crowley. 

He was, however, only about twenty four hours old, and preferences were subject to change when you were that young.

“How about this one, Angel?” 

Aziraphale looked away from Adam and back at the computer. 

The house Crowley had pulled up looked much more like a cottage than an actual house. The outside of it was a soft white with a startling bright blue front door, and that white theme continued on as Crowley clicked through the rest of the photos. 

“It doesn't really seem like your usual design choice.” Aziraphale didn’t much like the white either.

“We can paint it,” Crowley leaned a little closer, and Aziraphale couldn’t quite stop himself from resting his head back against Crowley’s shoulder (it had been nine months, after all, and Crowley’s shoulder was just as much his favorite place as it was Adam’s). “And it’s not the design I care about. It’s the distance.” 

Crowley was seized by this thought that the further away from the city they was, the harder it would be for anyone to find them. And he was half right in that thought. It would be incredibly easily for anyone to find them if they ever went to Tadfield (as it was a rather small village, and a same sex couple would be the new _thing_ for years), but most everyone in Heaven and Hell were not nearly smart enough to look for Aziraphale and Crowley in a small village. Both angels and demons were naturally social creatures, so the higher ups would, naturally, look for them in larger cities. 

(They were really quite bad at keeping tabs on where Aziraphale and Crowley lived) 

“Is this the one you want, then?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley peered down at him. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—hadn’t since he brought Adam inside the bookshop—and he hadn’t even bothered to repair the ones still lying on the floor. “You sound like you don’t like it.” 

“I’m impartial to it.” Aziraphale really did quite like Crowley’s eyes, though. 

Crowley rolled those said eyes, sliding his arm back over Aziraphale’s shoulder to hoist Adam up to his chest. They had abandoned the leather jacket to the bed, and Adam was now wearing an old shirt Aziraphale had found that was roughly cut down to his size. Crowley had been very adamant about not using miracles to get baby items (“they track those things, Angel, and then they’re going to send someone down to see why on Earth we keep doing it”), and Adam rather delighted in all the attention that particular nuisance brought him. 

“If you don’t like it, then we’ll keep looking.” Crowley’s voice had gone soft. “It’s going to be your house too, you know.” 

“It’s alright, really. It’s not like we have the time to be picky.” Aziraphale smiled. He lifted his hand, letting his fingers trail down Crowley’s cheek for a moment before pulling back. He really could be quite sweet, even if he very vehemently denied it. “As you said, we’ll just decorate a bit.” 

Crowley huffed out a quiet laugh. “Selfless angel.”

Aziraphale hummed. 

Adam did not know how to feel about this interaction between Crowley and Aziraphale. It was sweet and loving and kind and entirely too confusing for him, so he swung his arm and smacked Crowley’s cheek to let him know. 

“Ow!” Crowley tilted his head back, safely out of Adam’s range. “What the hell—?” 

“I think he wanted your attention, dear.” Aziraphale lifted a hand to cover his smile. 

“Yeah, well he got it.” Crowley frowned at Adam, who simply babbled and reached up his hand again to tug at Crowley’s hair. “You little bugger—“

Crowley tried to remove Adam’s hand from his hair, but every time he was successful Adam just put his hand right back. Adam hadn’t noticed how pretty Crowley’s hair was last night, and now that he was seeing it properly in the light he was fascinated by all the shades of red. 

Crowley, realizing he was fighting a losing battle, just shifted Adam higher up so his tugging didn’t hurt nearly as much. 

“I suppose we should set up a viewing.” Aziraphale turned back to the computer. He blinked and gave a little gasp in surprise at the black screen. 

Crowley reached over and shook the mouse, and Aziraphale gasped again as the screen came back up. 

“Can you do that yourself or do you need my help?” Crowley’s words sounded much more kind than he had intended them to be. 

“Yes, I can do it by myself.” Aziraphale’s words sounded much more loving than he had intended. 

Crowley hummed. He had an inkling that Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to do it (and he was right. He would have to come back down later and show Aziraphale how to do it), but for now he would let it go. “Then I’m going to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Aziraphale looked back up at him. “Whatever for?” 

“Baby shopping.” Crowley replied. 

 

—

 

Crowley had tied his hair back in a loose bun and slipped another pair of glasses on, and Adam was not upset so much as he was disappointed. Crowley was still holding him though, so Adam got over it rather quickly. 

“We’ll need a carrier.” Was the first thing Crowley said as he and Aziraphale walked into an independently owned store with some ridiculous baby name pun that Crowley couldn’t recall. “I’m not going to carry Adam around all the time.” 

“Yes, I would imagine that gets tiring.” Aziraphale peered around the shop as Crowley made a beeline right to the affronted item. He had no intention of waiting to buy the thing before cracking it open, and if Aziraphale were not here he wouldn’t have even paid for it. Hell, he would have taken the carrier right off the display. 

“It _is_ tiring.” Crowley turned back to Aziraphale. “Why don’t you hold him?” 

“Oh, um—“

Crowley didn’t give Aziraphale much chance to argue before he was plopping Adam in his arms. 

Both Adam and Aziraphale were startled by this sudden change. Adam looked up at the angel with wide eyes and Aziraphale stared back at the child with equally wide eyes. 

“He’s not an alien, Angel.” Crowley left Aziraphale behind, still fully intent on getting to the baby carrier. “He’s not going to hurt you.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, and very tentatively held Adam a little closer. He was surprised at how warm Adam was, and he was pressing him closer against his chest without even realizing it. Adam, meanwhile, was looking up at Aziraphale and was utterly fascinated by just how blue his eyes were. He thought that he might like them more than Crowley’s eyes.

“See? He likes you.” Crowley was back, a boxed baby carrier hoisted over his shoulder. “These things require _assembly_.” 

Crowley sounded entirely put out when he said it. 

“Hm?” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, eyes darting to the box before going back to Adam. “Oh, just get a cart, dear. I can carry Adam.” 

Crowley frowned.

Aziraphale, however, did not notice. He was entirely focused on Adam, and he was going through a process very similar to the one Crowley went through several days ago. He was very quickly falling in love with Adam (as an angel he was supposed to love everything, of course, but this was an entirely different kind of love), and while logically he knew this wasn’t—biologically speaking—his child, a more primal part of his brain was telling him that Crowley’s child equals his child. 

It was absolutely ridiculous, of course, but matters of the love-struck often were.

“If you say so,” Crowley waved his hand, dumping the baby carrier into the newly acquired cart. 

“He really is quite darling, isn’t he?” It was incredibly obvious that Aziraphale wasn’t speaking to Crowley. Rather, he had all his attention still on Adam and was very clearly talking to himself, but Crowley answered anyway. 

“What's got you liking him so quickly?” 

Aziraphale’s head snapped up. “I’ve always liked him.” 

Crowley hummed in that manner where you didn’t quite believe someone, but weren’t willing to dispute it. Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to hold Adam last night, let alone sleep in the same bed with them (even after Crowley had pointed out that there was no where else for Adam _to_ sleep, and that Aziraphale himself didn’t actually _have_ to sleep either). He had been wary of Adam ever since Crowley showed up with him—for good reason, Crowley supposed—and had never once made any notion to get closer. 

Crowley wondered if Adam was using some of those demonic powers of his.

(Adam was not. He was simply a naturally cute child, and Aziraphale was rather weak to cute children once he actually got over the fear of them destroying his book shop. Not to mention Adam’s eyes were the same exact shade as Crowley’s, and Aziraphale was ever so weak to Crowley’s eyes.) 

“Right.” Crowley hummed again. “Don’t let me stop you then.”

Then he put a foot up on the bottom of the cart and pushed off, jumping up to ride it through the aisle. 

Aziraphale huffed in a mix of fondness and annoyance, adjusting Adam to a more comfortable hold as he followed after the demon.

Adam himself was watching Crowley quickly roll further away from them. He thought it looked like great fun to be in that cart, but he was also rather comfortable snuggled up against Aziraphale (he was warm and squishy, and Adam liked warm and squishy). So Adam gurgled, reaching a hand up to grab a fistful of Aziraphale’s coat. 

Aziraphale’s heart melted. 

“Baby proofing?” Crowley, meanwhile, had moved on to the next isle, where he was standing and squinting at the sign with a skeptic eye. “What on Earth would we need to baby proof? Babies can’t hurt anything.”

Crowley pulled both a pack of wall socket covers and cabinet locks from their hooks, flipping both containers over to read the back. He read about sticking fingers in sockets and drinking hazardous chemicals and eating small objects, and Crowley squinted and brought the packages closer to his face to be sure he was reading them right. “Babies can’t be _that_ stupid…” 

He looked up then to see Aziraphale walking down the aisle and saying something to Adam about color schemes. 

“You’re not stupid, are you, Adam?” Crowley asked.

Adam looked up when he heard his father’s voice, giving a happy little yell and waving his fists around. 

“What are you going on about?” Aziraphale did that little head tilt he did when he was confused.

“This!” Crowley shoved both packages in Aziraphale’s face, then swung back and gestured to the entire display wall. He knocked a few boxes off their hooks in the process. “Adam can’t possibly be stupid enough to lick a wall socket!”

Aziraphale blinked. “I think you would be surprised, dear.” 

Crowley was giving him that face like he didn’t quite believe him, but he threw the packages in the cart anyway. Then he looked back at the wall, and threw a few more in (it wasn’t until they got home that Crowley would read the back again and realize he wouldn’t need them for months, and he would throw a proper fit about it). 

Aziraphale had managed to wander off in the few moments Crowley was turned away, and when the demon turned back around he could see the back of Aziraphale’s coat disappearing into the racks of baby clothes. Crowley jumped up on the cart and rolled after him, not bothering to apologize to the few other shoppers he ran into along the way and just making a general nuisance of himself ( _nuisance_ was in his job description, after all). 

“What are you looking at, Angel?” Crowley came to a rolling stop next to his angel. 

“Clothes,” Aziraphale was eyeing a pastel green onesie with little bears on it. “Adam can’t wear my shirts forever.” 

Adam rather thought that he could. Aziraphale’s shirts smelled very strongly of Crowley--with the soil and the sweet pollen--but the old books and dusty candle smell came out just strongly enough to tell that it was Aziraphale’s. Adam liked this shirt a lot, actually, and he wondered if they would let him keep it like they let him keep Crowley’s jacket. 

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Crowley jumped off the cart and immediately began sifting through the racks. He cared a great deal for Earthly fashion and tried his damnedest to stay up with all the trends (he thought it a good hobby, although it was rather easy to sink money into the industry--which was perhaps why Crowley liked it so much), and Crowley certainly wasn’t going to let his kid look like a mess when he held himself to such high standards. 

“Oh! We could get him a little suit,” Aziraphale was gazing rather adoringly at a little three piece suit that looked a little big for Adam at his current age (about 30 some odd hours old).

Crowley snatched it and threw it in the cart. 

He grabbed a few onesies (all of fashionable patterns and colors), a pair of tiny oxfords that he hoped he could get Adam to wear (he would, but only once), socks, a few wool hats, a winter coat and mittens (at Aziraphale’s insistence), a few of the cotton onesies (at a strangers recommendation), a little straw hat (“for when he goes outside, Angel”), and that pastel green onesie Aziraphale had first looked at. 

The passed by the diapers next, and Crowley grabbed as many as he possibly could and dumped them in the cart. 

“Do you even know how to change a diaper?” Aziraphale asked. He was still holding a now sleeping Adam, bouncing him lightly. 

“No.” Crowley said it just a little too cheerfully for the current situation. “But it can’t be that hard.” 

(Diapers had been the one thing Crowley had allowed either of them to miracle in, because neither of them knew what they were doing in that particular department) 

Aziraphale hummed, neither in agreement or disagreement. It was just a tone of understanding, which turned into a soft hum of a musical note as Adam stirred. He adjusted his hold on Adam to make him more comfortable, his nonsensical humming turning into one of those Mozart songs Aziraphale played in the shop. 

Adam liked the vibrations in Aziraphale’s chest, and he snuggled a little closer. 

“We need food for him, dear.” Aziraphale added it almost like an afterthought. 

Crowley blinked (not that Aziraphale could see). “Right.”

So they went over to the formula aisle, where Crowley bullied one of the sales associate into telling them what the best formula was (Crowley likes to think it was bullying, but really she was just doing her job). Adam woke up for a brief moment during this interaction, and the woman helping them took a moment to fawn over him (which Aziraphale wasn’t sure he liked, but Adam was much too tired to form a proper opinion on the matter).

“What’s his name?” She was cooing at Adam, and Aziraphale had a terrible urge to take a step back.

“Adam.” Crowley answered. 

“Oh, that’s adorable!” She smiled, straightening back up to look at Crowley. Aziraphale felt immensely relieved by it. “Who does he belong to?” 

Crowley blinked again. Her question made absolutely no sense to him. “He’s a baby. He doesn’t belong to anyone.” 

“Oh, no, I meant—“ the employee was flustered, and Crowley wondered if this counted as one of his Deeds Of The Day. He was going to put it down anyway. “Who's the father?” 

“We both are.” Crowley really didn’t understand these questions. “Is there a point to th—?”

“Did you use a surrogate?” She continued on like Crowley hadn’t said a goddamn thing. 

“No.” Crowley frowned and shot a glance at Aziraphale, who had lost his attention to Adam again. He was still awake (although he was incredibly sleepy), and he was waving his hand around in what Crowley assumed was a grab at Aziraphale’s curls. Aziraphale looked completely enamored. “I had him.”

The employee looked confused, and then realization dawned on her in a rather impressive shade of red and embarrassment. “Oh! Um…”

She floundered, coughed, cleared her throat, looked frantically around at any place that wasn’t at Crowley, then stood up straight in such a way that Crowley didn’t entirely think was possible until now. “Right, well, if you need me for anything just call!”

Then she scampered off. 

“Wonder what her problem is,” Crowley mumbled it, then looked back at Aziraphale. 

“Hm?” it took a few moments for Aziraphale to actually look up at him. “Did you say something, dear?” 

Crowley rolled his eyes and pushed the cart forward.

 

\--

 

They had spent at least another hour in the store before heading back to the bookshop, and now they had Adam sleeping soundly in the carrier in a new onesie (and curled up with crowley’s jacket after having thrown his first proper fit over it, which included another pair of broken glasses) and were looking at all the bits and pieces of the crib they had gotten like it was personally out to kill them. 

“Hand me the instructions, dear.”

They had also been at this for at least an hour, and Crowely was so sick of looking at screws and rails and tiny lettering that he handed the bundle of papers over to Aziraphale with no argument. 

Aziraphale hummed as he skimmed over it.

Adam happened to stir at the same time, letting out a soft whine.

“I’ve got him!” Crowley scooted over to the carrier, scooping Adam out. It wasn’t that difficult to tell that Adam needed a diaper change, and Crowley would gladly take that over trying to figure out how to put together this crib for one more second. “We’ll be back, Angel.”

Crowley pressed a quick kiss to Aziraphale’s temple before disappearing off to the bedroom. 

He sat on the bed and he fumbled with his phone, pulling up the wikihow page he had used earlier. Adam tried to smack Crowley’s phone from his hand, and Crowley just moved it out of reach. He gave the article a quick read over, threw his phone off somewhere, then slid off the bed and gently laid Adam down on the blanket he had left of the floor from the last time he did this. 

“We’ll make this quick this time, alright?” 

Adam giggled and reached up for Crowley. 

“Wait till I change you, okay love?” Crowley reached for the diapers and wipes he left lying out earlier. 

The process wasn’t nearly as difficult as Crowley was making it out to be, but he was still horribly new at this parenting thing (and he always did like to make things a tad more dramatic than necessary). Adam was an angel throughout the entire process (well, as much as he could be, at any rate), and when everything was done he snuggled up to Crowley’s chest and promptly fell right back asleep. 

Crowley had to take a moment to just sit and hold and stare, swallowing down a pool of emotions that, if he dived into it, he wouldn’t be able to name them all. 

“How is it,” Crowley kept his voice to something hardly above a whisper, frightened of what would happen if anyone were to hear him but himself. “That I can love something as small as you so much?” 

Adam tightened his hold on Crowley’s shirt in a response. 

“Crowley?”

Crowley looked up.

Aziraphale was in the doorway. He had lost his waistcoat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, and Crowley took a moment to let his eyes rake over Aziraphale before falling back to Adam. Normally he would take his time and stare and drink it all in, but with Adam in his arms Crowley found his attention much more easily taken. 

“Did you finish the crib?” he asked.

“I did.” Aziraphale answered. “It’s in the living room.” 

He moved further into the room, coming to sit on the floor next to Crowley. 

Crowley shifted so he could push his side right up against Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale leaned into it, lifting a hand to hover over Adam. Then he trailed his fingers across Adam’s cheek, smiling ever so gently as Adam turned his head to get more contact from him. “He really is quite small, isn’t he?” 

Crowley swallowed and nodded, then looked up at Aziraphale.

“Do you think he’s worth it?” Crowley couldn’t recall a single moment where he had been more scared than he was right now, sitting on the floor, holding his baby, and looking at Aziraphale with the most open gaze he ever had. “Is he worth everything you’re doing?”

_Is this worth it for you to stay?_

Aziraphale looked up. 

“Everything about you is worth it,” Aziraphale brought his hand up, cupping Crowley’s jaw and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips. “It always has been.” 

Crowley bit his cheek as he felt something prick the corner of his eyes, then ducked his head into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, holding himself there as Aziraphale held him back.

Adam was unaware of this, as he was still quite soundly asleep, but he could feel the warmth and happiness and relief, and he felt it right along with his parents. It brought him happy dreams, and when he woke next he was smiling just as brightly as the stars shining outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes  
> i listen to sad songs  
> and stuff like this happens


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on Tumblr @snap-dragon-pop

Crowley had not anticipated just how much of a difficulty getting a car seat into a classic Bentley would be. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—“

“I’ve _got_ it, Angel.” Crowley very clearly did not have it, but Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to argue with him on this one. “I just need a sec—“ 

There was a crack, and Crowley stumbled back from the Bentley at a pace much quicker than anyone should be able to. He was missing his glasses and his hair had flattened (despite the product he had so carefully put in this morning) and he looked a good deal startled as he blinked at the open car door.

A happy laugh bubble out of Adam at the sight. 

“Oh, don’t laugh at me.” Crowley whipped around, waving his hand to style his hair back to what he had it. Adam squirmed in Aziraphale’s arms and giggled some more. “I’m doing this for _you_ , you little gremlin.” 

“And he’s very grateful for it, aren’t you, Adam?” Aziraphale hummed, bopping the tip of Adam’s nose. “That your father is going through all this trouble to keep you safe.”

Adam was rather grateful for it, but right now he was much too distracted by the feeling of Aziraphale poking his nose. He giggled when Aziraphale did it again, reaching up his hands to hold onto Aziraphale’s finger.

Crowley, meanwhile, was staring at Aziraphale while his heart did a few flips in his chest. 

He had always known, of course--but hearing it out loud--? Well, hearing it out loud sent warmth in his chest and cheeks and made his heart flutter and his lips tug into a smile. It made him realize that even in the vastness of Earth and the universe, he meant a great deal to this one child, and he meant a great deal to this one angel. It made him realize he was important in this universe for entirely different reasons than the ones he had been given. 

He was a _father_. 

And that, Crowley realized, was a wonderful thing to be. 

“Are you alright, dear?” 

Crowley blinked, coming back to himself rather quickly. 

“Yes—yes, I’m fine.” He shook his head to dispel any lingering thoughts. It was much too early in the morning for grand realizations anyway. “Come here and help me with this.” 

“I thought you didn’t need my help.” Aziraphale gave Crowley that amused smile Crowley always delighted in seeing (because that meant Aziraphale was being a bit more of a bastard than usual), but still walked over. 

“I don’t, but you can do it if your going to be rude about it.” Crowley took Adam from Aziraphale, lifting him up high and kissing his nose before cuddling him close to his chest. “Isn’t that right, Adam? Papa is going to have to work for it if he’s going to be rude.” 

Adam didn’t really know what being _rude_ was, but he delighted in the feeling of being picked up and bounced around, so he giggled and squealed in the hopes that Crowley would do it some more. 

“You almost have it, dear, just—“ Aziraphale snapped a few more buckles, tightened a few things and gave the car seat a little wiggle, then, “Papa?” 

“Do you not like it?” Crowley asked. 

“Oh, no, I—I quite like it, actually.” Aziraphale paused. “Do...do you like it?” 

Crowley smiled something entirely too soft for a demon of his standing. “Yeah, I do.” 

Adam flailed and smacked Crowley in the face, still not sure what he thought of these quiet and soft interactions. He was thinking he liked them, but it was hard to be one hundred percent sure where you were only about four days old. 

“Oh, you _bugger_ —“ Crowley caught his hand, and Adam was all too happy to grab Crowley’s finger and hold it. “Do not think you can cute yourself out of this.” 

Adam squeezed Crowley’s finger a little tighter, and immediately did exactly what Crowley told him he couldn’t do. 

“Are we ready to go, then?” Aziraphale asked. He was watching this scene unfold with a happy smile and a light heart. This was one of those rare moments where Aziraphale wished he had a cellular phone so he could take those snapshot moment photos that Crowley was so fond of taking. The more Aziraphale thought about it the more he wished he had one, so he miracled one in his hand and fumbled with it for a moment before pressing the right button.

Crowley looked up at him as the shutter effect sounded, blinking in something that resembled surprise. “Did you just take a photo?”

“I did.” Aziraphale slipped the phone in his pocket. He was sure he would spend all night figuring out all the functions and trinkets of it. “We really do need to leave, dear. We wouldn’t want to be late.”

 

—

 

If Crowley thought getting the car seat in the Bentley was difficult, getting Adam out of it was even harder. 

“Who in G—S— _Someone’s_ name thought up this contraption?” Crowley grit his teeth, and Adam (who had been asleep for the entirety of the car ride to Tadfield) woke up and blinked sleepily at Crowley. He immediately made a grab for Crowley’s hair (which he had left loose today), and Crowley neatly dodged it. 

He was about to rip the buckles off the seat when he accidentally pressed the right button to free Adam. 

Crowley huffed, tying his hair back before scooping Adam up. 

Adam made a lazy grab for the few loose strands of Crowley’s hair, but he was still quite sleepy so he gave up rather quickly, electing instead to drop his head on Crowley’s chest and curl his fingers in Crowley’s shirt. 

Aziraphale had already gotten out of the car to greet the realtor (“no sense in keeping her waiting, dear”), and he was happily chatting away with her about other houses in the area as Crowley came up to them. She looked rather young—Crowley wouldn’t dare put her over thirty—and she seemed happy enough to chat away with Aziraphale.

Although, most people were happy to chat with the angel (as he _was_ an angel. People were generally happy to be around him, regardless of what they were doing), unless it was about selling books (his books, to be more specific). Then you would be best advised to run away as quickly as you could, because Aziraphale _would_ chat with you, but it would be the most passive aggressive chat you’ve ever had in your life. Crowley had been privy to this chat once in his life, when he had first asked Aziraphale about his odd shop hours, and Crowley had promised both himself, Satan and the Almighty that he would never bring up that topic of conversation again. 

“We all set, then?” Beatrice (the realtor) asked, her smile brightening as she caught sight of Adam. “Oh, he’s darling, isn’t he?”

Crowley hummed that specific hum that meant ,em>he’s a bit of a handful but because he is my child I’m biased to ignore that so I agree with you that my child is, in fact, darling. 

Adam had fallen back asleep, so he had no opinion on the matter. 

(You will recall the baby carrier Crowley and Aziraphale bought a few days ago. They were not using it, and hardly had, because they both discovered that they much rather preferred to hold Adam close instead of constantly having to look down at him. It was safer, Crowley had reasoned, because he had a direct hold on his son. Really, he just liked the warmth of a baby against his own cool skin, while Aziraphale just liked to hold Adam and feel his heartbeat against his own. Adam also enjoyed this arrangement a great deal more, because he had a comfy chest to lay on, hair to pull and clothes to hold.) 

“This is a wonderful house for a new family,” Beatrice was leading them down the main hall and to the kitchen. “It’s got three bedrooms, which leaves room for another child, if you want to grow your family.” 

“Oh, we’re quite alright with the one.” Crowley said it in an almost offhand manner, quite distracted by the kitchen. 

“A guest bedroom, then.” Beatrice amended with an easy smile. 

While Crowley didn’t often eat food he enjoyed cooking and baking it, and Aziraphale, who did enjoy eating food, loved to taste Crowley’s creations. So Crowley looked around the kitchen in wonderment, already seeing where he would place things and add a breakfast bar and how he would saunter around with bowls full of cake batter. 

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley, smiling softly. 

It wasn’t hard to see what exactly was going through the demons mind.

“With the open concept of the house you’ll be able to keep a better eye on your son when he starts crawling and walking,” Beatrice was smiling pleasantly. “That’s another reason why this is a good family home.” 

Aziraphale blinked, then looked around. He could see most of the living room and dining room from the kitchen. “I never noticed.” 

“Most people don’t, actually, but it’s a nice little bonus.” 

Crowley, meanwhile, had his attention taken away from the house and back to Adam. He had woken up again and was looking around the house with wide eyes, fingers clutching a little tighter at Crowley’s shirt. He looked frightened, Crowley thought, and he started to gently rock Adam back and forth before he became too frightened. 

Adam gave a quiet little groan, turning to hide his face in Crowley’s neck. 

“Oh, did he wake up?” Aziraphale turned away from the living room, making his way over to Crowley without waiting for a response. 

Babies, apparently, were asleep more often than they were awake, and so every time Adam was up and active Crowley and Aziraphale were ready to cater to every little whim he had (although Adam was only about four days old, he was already fully exploiting this). 

“I’m sure he’ll be asleep again soon.” Crowley reached a hand up to adjust the wool hat Adam was wearing. “We can go see more of the house, Angel.” 

Aziraphale looked from Adam, to Crowley, then back to Adam. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Crowley wasn’t entirely sure if he meant to sound irritated or fond, but it came out as the latter. “Adam will be fine, Aziraphale. He’s just going to be a bit grumpy.” 

Adam thought he had a good reason to be grumpy. He was very tired (although he often was), and he never slept well when he wasn’t lying down (not that Crowley wasn’t comfortable enough). He wasn’t sure what he thought of this strange lady that his parents were talking to, and Crowley wasn’t letting him take off his glasses. He quite rather wanted to go home. 

So Adam made a little _humph noise_ , smashing his face into Crowley’s chest. 

“I’ll make this as quick as I can, then.” Beatrice gave them another bright smile, then ushered them out of the kitchen. 

 

—

 

In the end they decided to put a bid on the house, because Crowley liked the distance and Aziraphale liked the open space, and the didn’t exactly have time to be overly picky (as much as Crowley wished they did). 

That, and Adam was really starting to get quite fussy. 

“Oh, I do hope we’ll hear back soon.” They were walking back to the bookshop now, and Aziraphale was holding a _fresh from crying and still sniffing_ Adam (his day started off well enough, but as of several hours ago Adam really was not having a good day).

“We will, Angel.” Crowley waggled his fingers, grinning at Aziraphale’s questioning head tilt. “Little demonic miracles.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale opened his mouth to tell Crowley off, then snapped it shut and stopped abruptly enough that Crowley crashed into him. Crowley huffed and sputtered and opened his mouth to say something, but Aziraphale shut it with a look. “Someone’s inside the shop.”

Crowley’s face fell. “ _Shit_.”

“Take Adam and go in through the back and head straight up to the flat.” Despite the circumstances, Aziraphale was quite gentle when handing Adam to Crowley. “Do _not_ come down until I come up.”

Crowley was holding Adam a bit tighter than he should be, but Aziraphale’s panic was feeding into his own, and Crowley had never been good at handling panic. “Is it someone from your Side?”

Aziraphale nodded. “It’s Gabriel, I think.” 

“ _Fuck_.” 

“Go.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a little push. “Quickly, dear.”

And so Crowley went.

Now, Gabriel showing up at the shop (for we was indeed standing and waiting for Aziraphale in the office), was not part of the Ineffable Plan. The Great Plan, certainly, but not the Ineffable Plan. Unfortunately, God hadn’t taken into account the overlays and similarities of these two plans, and She hadn’t planned accordingly for this particular interaction. She had, however, caught this interaction before it got out of hand, and She extended her hand just long enough for Crowley to make it safely upstairs. 

God was much more concerned with the Ineffable Plan than She was with the Great Plan (contrary to popular belief from both Above and Below).

She could not, however, silence Adam’s fearful crying. So Crowley rushed upstairs and soundproofed the flat with a blink. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Crowley started pacing the length of the floor, bouncing Adam as he cries got louder. “It’s okay, love. Your papa isn’t going to let anything happen.”

Adam was not calmed by this. He was frightened because Aziraphale had been frightened, and how could he calm down until he saw a calm Aziraphale?

“Adam, look!” Crowley stopped his pacing and bouncing just long enough to take off his glasses and let his hair back down. This stopped Adam’s cries for a moment, but he started back up just as quickly as he stopped. “Oh, come on kid, work with me here!” 

Adam, evidently, would not.

And while Crowley was trying to calm and soothe his son, Aziraphale was bracing himself for a rather unpleasant encounter. He took a deep breath (although he did not need it), and pushed open the door to the shop. A bell twinkled above, and Gabriel popped out from between the shelves full of Aziraphale’s third and fourth edition books. 

“Ah! Aziraphale!” Gabriel marched over to him, holding open a copy of _The Picture Of Doran Gray_ in such a way that make Aziraphale want to slap him.

“Gabriel.” Aziraphale gave him what he thought was a pleasant smile (it was not, but Gabriel hadn’t had a human body long enough to really know the difference). 

“I was wondering where you went off too.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I was just taking a walk.”

Gabriel hummed. He walked past Aziraphale, snapping the book shut hard enough to make Aziraphale wince. “Nice day out for it?”

“Yes, I would say so.” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked up towards the ceiling, but only once. “Did you--did you need anything…?” 

“Oh, no! No, not at all,” Gabriel did not--nor would he ever--need anything from Aziraphale’s little shop. Gabriel wasn’t one for books (or Earth, for that matter) and he hated having to visit Aziraphale simply for that one little thing. That was why he always made Aziraphale visit him. “I was just popping in to let you know the Antichrist has been delivered to Earth.” 

“Has he?” Aziraphale’s voice went up a note higher. “That's--”

“Excellent news!” Gabriel cut Aziraphale off. “We can finally get this show on the road!” 

Aziraphale nodded. His cheeks hurt from how much he as smiling. “How lovely.” 

Gabriel hummed again, clapping a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “The demon Crawly delivered him. Figured you should know so you can keep an eye on him--make sure he’s not up to anything.”

He then gave Aziraphale’s shoulder a squeeze, gave him a cold and clinical smile, then left. 

Later, when all was calmed down, Aziraphale would notice that Gabriel took the book with him. 

But for now, Aziraphale let out the breath he hadn’t really realized he had been holding, cast another glance up at the ceiling, then hurried to the stairs that lead to the flat. He couldn’t hear anything coming from up above, and while--logically speaking--he knew it was most likely because Crowley performed a miracle to make it so, he couldn’t stop the nauseating feeling of worry that clouded his head and filled his lungs. 

So Aziraphale went up those stairs as fast as he could, and when he reached the living room he was greeted with a sight that, upon later reflection, he both expected and was surprised by. 

Crowley was humming softly—a tune Aziraphale faintly recognize—holding a red and blotchy faced Adam (who was also now in a fleece sleeping onesie) close to his chest as he slowly paced around the room. He was gently bouncing the baby in his arms, trailing his fingers along Adam’s back as he quieted his cries and eased away his sorrows. 

“ _You will remember, when this is blown over, everything’s all by the way_ ,” Crowley started singing even softer than what he had been humming. “ _When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you, how I still love you_ ,”

Aziraphale was taken aback by it.

Crowley’s voice was a low rumble from his chest—a smooth and sweet sound. 

It had been a very long time since Aziraphale had heard Crowley sing. 

“ _Oh, hurry back, hurry back, don’t take it away from me_ ,” Adam has fallen silent save for a few hiccups, and he was looking into Crowley’s eyes, his own blinking slowly and dropping from sleep and the exhaustion of crying. 

Crowley smiled so gently, turning to the cradle they had set up next to the couch, his back now to Aziraphale. “ _Because you don’t know what it means to me, love of my life_ ,” 

Adam babbled something, voice weak and strained from crying. 

“ _Love of my life_ ,” Crowley sang in answer. 

Adam reaches a hand up, lazily smacking it against Crowley’s cheek before dropping it again and curling it in his shirt. Crowley just hummed, the sweet melody filling the air as he lulled his son back to sleep. 

Aziraphale watched, transfixed, as Crowley finished his song and reached into the carrier to grab the jacket they had left in there. Adam latched onto it immediately, shoving part of the sleeve in his mouth and holding the rest of it close to his body. 

Crowley started humming something different, turning back around and finally catching sight of Aziraphale. “Papa’s back, love. Safe and sound, just like I said.” 

Adam babbled something, and Crowley sauntered across the room. 

“I finally got him to calm down, but…” Crowley trailed off for a moment. “He was upset because you were upset, I think.” 

Aziraphale blinked, then looked down at Adam. “Oh, my dear boy...”

He took Adam from Crowley, kissing the top of his head and cradling him close to his chest. This was what Adam had wanted from the start, so he wiggled himself as close to Aziraphale as he could get, holding tight to the angel’s jacket in (what he hoped) was a clear sign that he would not let go anytime soon. 

Crowley huffed, lifting a hand to card through his hair and pull it back from his face. “Of course he wanted _you_.” 

“I think he just wanted to make sure I was alright.”

Aziraphale was right, of course, but Adam had fallen asleep, so he couldn’t offer any confirmation. 

Crowley sighed, then fell back onto the couch with a dignified flop. Aziraphale followed after him, sitting as gently as he could to keep from disturbing Adam (he had quite a long day, and Aziraphale rather thought that Adam deserved a good rest). 

“What did Gabriel want?” Crowley dropped his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, watching Adam’s chest rise and fall. 

It was oddly comforting, to watch that tiny sign of life. 

“He was just telling me about the Antichrist being on Earth.” Aziraphale couldn’t quite keep the dryness out of his voice as he said it. “It wasn’t anything more than that.” 

Crowley snorted. “Little slow on the uptake, isn’t he?” 

Aziraphale hummed. “You sound tired, dear.”

“...yeah, a little bit.” Crowley had found that his moods seemed to shift and flow with Adam’s. He was happy when Adam was happy, grumpy when Adam was grumpy and tired when Adam was tired. He supposed it had something to do with him being the primary caretaker--he had to be in tune with his son. “It was a bit of a rough day.” 

“Why don’t you go to sleep, then?” Aziraphale tilted his head to look at Crowley. He looked about as tired as he sounded. “I’ll stay up a bit longer with Adam.”

Crowley wanted nothing more than to lay down on his bed, but… “Are you sure, Angel?” 

“Get some sleep, Crowley.” Aziraphale said it as gently as he could. “Adam and I will be alright.” 

Crowley frowned, but after a smile and a kiss from Aziraphale, he relented. 

He stood and stretched, stooping down to kiss Adam’s cheek once before quietly making his way to the bedroom (Adam, who was still asleep, didn’t notice). Aziraphale watched Crowley go, then looked back to Adam. 

Aziraphale had been frightened when he sensed Gabriel in the shop. He had thought that his Side had found out, he had thought the worst of what could possibly happen, he had thought that if he had needed to fight he would do so without hesitation. 

He had been terrified thinking of what lengths he would go to, to keep Adam and Crowley safe. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t question our luck, hm?” Aziraphale asked.

Adam said nothing (he was, after all, still asleep). 

“Right, well, let’s get you to a proper bed so you can get a good night of rest.” Aziraphale smiled, then stood. He made his way to the bedroom, first setting Adam in his crib before turning to his own bed. 

Crowley was lying down, his eyes glowing a warm hue in the dark. The blankets rustled as he slid his hand out, holding it out to Aziraphale. Aziraphale himself took it, miracling himself into a pair of pajama bottoms as he crawled into bed next to his demon. Crowley immediately wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pulled him close. 

“ ‘m love you, Angel.” it was muffled against Azirapahle’s skin, spoken in the way that all people drifting off to sleep spoke. 

Aziraphale breathed out a quiet laugh. “I love you as well, my dear.”

Crowley didn’t quite hear Aziraphale’s words, but he would dream of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this entire story because I wanted to see Crowley try and get a car seat in the Bentley and softly sing Queen, both of which have now been accomplished.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check me out on tumblr @snap-dragon-pop

Aziraphale, Crowley and Adam moved into that little white house in Tadfield exactly one week later. 

(much to the excitement of their new neighbors. They hadn’t had anyone new to Tadfield in years)

They had miracled all their belongings into boxes, then to the house (although Crowley put his plants straight into the new house, not wanting to cause more stress that what was already on their daily schedule). 

That’s where they stood now—in the living room of their new house, Crowley with his hands on his hips and Aziraphale holding Adam, looking at all the boxes scattered about the largely vacant room. They had a rather daunting task ahead of them, unpacking all these boxes (because Aziraphale had mentioned offhandedly that the more miracles they did, the easier it would be to find them. Crowley had been rightfully terrified of that thought), as neither of them had ever actually gone through the process before. They had moved before, of course, but they had never actually bothered to do the whole manual labor part of it. 

“Well, I suppose…” Crowley tilted his head. He didn’t take his hands off his hips. 

“Yes, indeed.” Azirapahle agreed. He didn’t make a move either. 

Adam babbled and shoved his hand in his mouth.

Neither Crowley or Aziraphale had the faintest idea where to start. Crowley wanted to be practical and get the big things out of the way first, but Aziraphale was not practical and wanted to just dive right in and had a very _gung-ho_ attitude about the entire thing.

Crowley and Aziraphale had not told each other this. 

“Well…” Crowley tilted his head again. “We can get Adam’s crib set up, at least. So he’s out of the way.” 

Aziraphale hummed. 

It would be rather difficult to unpack while holding an infant. 

“Where did we put the crib, dear?” 

Crowley opened his mouth, looked around, then closed it again. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up. He looked back at Aziraphale, then around the room once more, then back at Aziraphale again. 

“I don’t know.” Crowley said. 

(Aziraphale and Crowley also didn’t have the foresight to label their boxes either, so things were going to be difficult no matter what they did.) 

“...lovely.” Aziraphale made it sound like it was anything but. “You could always take the car seat out, I suppose.”

“Absolutely not! I am not taking that thing out until I absolutely have to!” Crowley huffed. He had struggled enough getting it in. He dreaded to think how difficult it would be getting it back out. 

Adam squealed and slapped Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere, Angel.” And with that deceleration Crowley finally moved, diving into the stacks of boxes and ripping them open with what you could almost describe and reckless abandonment. Both Adam and Azirapahle watched—Aziraphale with a faint worry that Crowley might break something and Adam wondering if he could get ahold of some of the bubble wrap Crowley kept throwing around. 

It looked like great fun.

“Do be careful, Crowley.” Aziraphale called, suddenly feeling quite worried that Crowley might cut himself on the edges of the boxes (not that it would have had an effect on Crowley. He was a demon after all, and he could very easily get rid of a paper cut with a blink). 

Crowley grunted in response. Not to say that he was going to do as Aziraphale asked, but rather to show that he was listening—albeit not very well. 

Adam, meanwhile, still very much so wanted that bubble wrap. 

He squirmed in Aziraphale’s hold, waving his arms around in a vague gesture at the bubble wrap. He whined and looked up at Aziraphale, then back to the bubble wrap and quickened his arm waving pace. 

“Do you need something, Adam?” Aziraphale finally tore his eyes away from Crowley when Adam came dangerously close to tipping out of his arms. 

Adam gurgled, slapped Azirapahle, then looked back at the bubble wrap. 

Aziraphale blinked, following his gaze. “...you want the bubble wrap?”

Adam gurgled again, giving a little bounce in agreement. 

“Just make sure he doesn’t try and eat it.” Crowley hadn’t really paid attention to what Aziraphale was saying, as he was much more focused on opening boxes. What he did catch was _Adam_ and _Bubble Wrap_ , and he figured those two words were a safe endeavor together, as long as his son kept the plastic out of his mouth (although, Crowley thought most things were safe with Adam as long as he kept it out of his mouth. He was the antichrist, after all. Not much _could_ hurt him). 

Azirapahle bent down to pick up one of the smaller pieces of the bubble wrap. He handed it to Adam, who immediately gave it a squeeze. It popped, startling both Adam and Aziraphale. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked while Adam stared. Then Adam giggled, and popped it again. 

Crowley, meanwhile, had finally found the box that held the crib.

Unfortunately, only half of the pieces were in there. 

Crowley stared at it, reaching in to pull out one of the many wooden bars of the monstrosity that Adam slept in. He looked at it, threw it back in the box, then huffed. “Bugger.” 

He slid the box off to the side, huffed again, then looked up at Aziraphale. 

“Azirapahle—light of my life, my dear, sweet Angel—“

“Yes, of course dear.” 

Adam popped the last of the bubble wrap, then threw it at Crowley. It fell short, and fluttered sadly to the ground. 

It looked rather like how Crowley felt in that particular moment of time. 

Aziraphale sat on the floor next to Crowley, crossing his legs and setting Adam in the open space between them. Adam fell back onto Aziraphale’s stomach, blinking owlishly at the two of them. Aziraphale handed him another sheet of bubble wrap, then pulled a small stack of boxes to his side and started opening them. 

Crowley took a moment to just watch. 

Aziraphale had taken to being a parent like a fish takes to water. It had been so strange for Crowley to watch (although Crowley suspected it had been strange for Aziraphale to watch Crowley do the same thing), but there was always a little bubble of warmth that popped in Crowley’s chest every time he saw Aziraphale with Adam. He was getting rather addicted to that feeling, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not (normally Crowley would call it bad, as demons are supposed to do bad things, but nothing involving Azirapahle was either strictly good or bad. It always fell into that thin middle line that Angels and Demons could never make sense of). 

“Here we are,” Aziraphale pulled another box close to the one full of the other crib parts Crowley had already set aside. “Would you like me to put it together again?”

“If you would be so kind.” Crowley let a little sarcasm drip into his voice.

No sense in being too sweet to Aziraphale, after all. He had to keep some spice in their relationship.

Azirapahle just smiled—the one he had whenever he was being fond and loving and more enamored with Crowley than usual. “You’ll have to hold Adam then.”

Crowley huffed like it was some monumental task, but he took Adam and set him delicately in his lap, much like he was handling a large glass vase (at times it certainly seemed like that’s what Adam was). Adam immediately made a grab for Crowley’s hair (while still holding the bubble wrap, mind you). Crowley himself just sighed, tilting his head to alleviate the sharp tug and to accommodate Adam. 

“I’m going to cut my hair if you keep this up,” Crowley warned (there wasn’t much bite to his voice though). “Then you’re going to have to find something else to tug on.” 

Aziraphale, who had been setting out the pieces of Adam’s crib, paused. He looked up at Crowley, frowning.

“Would you?” He asked.

“Would I what?” Crowley blinked. “Cut my hair?” 

Aziraphale nodded. 

“I suppose so.” If Crowley were being honest, he really didn’t mind Adam’s hair pulling tendencies. It always made that bubble of warmth pop in his chest whenever Adam reached for him (weather it be to pull his hair, throw his glasses or hold onto his shirt), and as Crowley had said before, he really was getting quite addicted to it.

This warmth that Crowley was feeling was what most parents felt upon seeing their children and significant other in that warm and cozy familial setting. It was the love one felt and received from family—something Crowley hadn’t had since before the fall (Hell had never been too keen on the idea of Families and Love). However, neither him nor Aziraphale had quite realized the fact that they were indeed parents now—which in turn made them family (not that they hadn’t been before)—so Crowley was struggling a great deal to place this feeling. 

He was, however, content to sit on it for now. 

“Oh.” Aziraphale was looking at Crowley rather strangely. “It’s just—oh, it’s not important.” 

“Tell me, Angel.” Crowley prompted Aziraphale to go on, because clearly it was important. Otherwise Aziraphale wouldn’t have brought it up. 

Aziraphale frowned in that peculiar way he always did when he was thinking too hard about something. “It’s just...I like your hair long, that’s all.” 

Crowley blinked slowly. It hadn’t occurred to him that Azirapahle might have a preference for Crowley’s appearance. “Yeah?” 

Aziraphale hummed. His cheeks were a light pretty pink color. “It’s not—if you want to cut it go right ahead, Crowley—“ 

“Well, if you like it…” Crowley trailed off, leaning closer to Aziraphale. “I’ll leave it.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale then, lifting a hand to place over Aziraphale’s cheek. It was something slow and sweet and soft—a gentle sort of greeting that Crowley never had enough opportunity to do (which, if you asked Crowley, was on par with an international disaster). 

So Crowley took his time, putting as much love as he possibly could into that one soft kiss. 

Adam, however, didn’t much like being squished between two bodies, so he shrieked and flapped his arms until Crowley and Aziraphale pulled apart. 

Crowley huffed, but was giving Aziraphale a look that said _we’ll continue this tonight_.

Aziraphale himself flushed, pulling the boxes of crib parts onto his lap to give him something else to focus on. 

“Alright, you little rat,” Crowley scooped Adam up and stood. Adam giggled, dropping his bubble wrap to hold onto the front of Crowley’s shirt.”Let’s get you some lunch before you decide to riot.”

Aziraphale smiled softly to himself as Crowley went to the kitchen, keeping up a steady stream of one way conversation with Adam the entire way (Adam babbled back, of course, but his words were not coherent enough for anyone to understand).

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale had a bit more of an inkling as to what that bubble of warmth in his chest was, and he loved that feeling all the more because of it. 

Crowley came back out a moment later, yelling about boxes and baby formula. 

 

\--

 

Adam was sitting safely in his crib, holding tightly to Crowley’s jacket and sucking on the sleeve, watching Aziraphale and Crowley jump around boxes and trinkets and furniture parts, all while bickering at each other about what when where. He was contemplating falling asleep, but he also found it great fun to watch his papa and father, so Adam was content to fight off sleep for a bit longer to watch. 

“I’m just saying,” Crowley was talking now, holding a box of silverware and formula bottles under his arm. “It would be easier if we went room by room.” 

“But we don’t have anything labeled, dear.” Aziraphale, who was rifling through a box of Crowley’s gardening supplies, looked up at the demon.

Crowley frowned.

He supposed he could concede that point to Aziraphale. They hadn’t labeled _anything_ , so the best they could manage right now was opening each and every box to see what went where. 

“I’ll just put this in the kitchen, then.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale snagged a box full of mugs--his mugs, to be more specific--thrusting it Crowley’s general direction. “Can you take this too?” 

“I suppose.” Crowley huffed, but he took the box anyway and stacked it on top of the one he was already holding. 

“Thank you!” Aziraphale was giving Crowley such a sweet smile,

Crowley still rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“Your papa is spoiled, Adam.” Crowley stopped by Adam’s crib, balancing the boxes on his hip. 

“I am not!” Aziraphale’s head popped back up.

Crowley hummed--that one where you were not agreeing with someone, but pretending to so you could avoid an argument. 

“I’m not!” Aziraphale repeated, this time with a little more force behind it.

“Of course, Angel.” then Crowley leaned close to Adam, dropping his voice to a whisper. “It’s not a bad thing to be, you know.”

Adam looked up at Crowley with wide eyes.

“You know, I was the one that made Shakespeare as popular as he is--just because your papa asked me to.” Crowley shifted the boxes around, smiling softly as he thought back on years long since past. “I did a lot of things just because he asked me too. It’s why he’s so spoiled, I suppose.” 

Crowley sighed then, something terribly soft and fond. “I do hate saying no to him, though.”

When Crowley will tell these stories to Adam later in his life, Adam will hope and dream that he will one day find someone to love just as fiercely and completely as Crowley loves Aziraphale. He will tell Crowley, and Crowley will smile and kiss the top of his head and tell him one day you will before tucking him in for the night. 

But for now Adam will listen. 

He will not fully understand, of course, but he will understand enough.

Adam Fell-Crowley did not need to understand the word _love_ in order to know what it was.

(Fell-Crowley would be the last name Aziraphale and Crowley would put on his birth certificate in a fit of panic a few days later when they visit a hospital to get him a general checkup and start his vaccines)

(Crowley may be a demon, but he wasn’t _that_ kind of demon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter than usual, but that's okay because im working a lot and I am Tired Constantly


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working non-stop for like, the past two weeks and pulling twelve hour shifts for most of that time, so I have had little to no time to sit down and write

Adam, it turned out, did not like getting shots. 

(Most children did not like getting shots, in fact.)

He had wailed and cried, and when it was done he still wailed and cried, but this time he was clinging to Aziraphale and digging his nose in the junction of Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder and refusing to let go or lower his volume or look at Crowley as they left the hospital.

Crowley had felt so bad about it that he bought Adam a stuffed snake plush and a bear beanie baby with a little halo and angel wings just because Adam had given them a passing glance through the shop window. 

They sat in the corner of Adam’s crib now, smushed up right next to one another. 

“You won’t tell anyone about that, right?” Crowley nodded at the stuffed plushie duo. 

They had just put Adam down for a nap, and they intended to keep him napping for as long as they possibly could.

Adam had played with the plushies when Crowley first bought them and he still played with them now, but he always put them right back after he was done, and he always kept them together.

“Of course not.” Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s side, and Crowley snuck an arm around his waist. “We have to keep up your wily old appearance, after all.”

It had been about a week and a half since Adam had gotten his first round of vaccines, and he was still rather grumpy about it. He didn’t quite trust Crowley to be alone with him yet (as Crowley was the one to actually go with him into the room, while Aziraphale stayed behind), and so Aziraphale was accompanying them everywhere (because, while Adam couldn’t quite vocalize why he was grumpy, he could whine and cry about it, and he most certainly whined and cried when ever Aziraphale left the room). It was quite a hassle, actually, and both Aziraphale and Crowley were hoping Adam would move past this phase by the end of the week. 

(They had rather hoped that he would have moved past it a week ago.)

Crowley hummed, dropping his head on top of Aziraphale’s. “I’d say we have at least two hours before he wakes up, Angel.” 

“A whole two hours.” Aziraphale gave a fond little sigh. “What ever shall we do with it?” 

“I can think of a few things.” Crowley dropped his voice to a low whisper and gave Aziraphale’s hip a squeeze in that precise manner that left nothing up to the imagination. 

They left the nursery rather quickly after that, stumbling down the hall like a couple of teenagers who had a bit too much to drink at their first school dance. They bumped into the wall a few times and knocked a painting of a lake that Crowley hung earlier that day askew, but neither of them had really taken notice to it. They were both too distracted trying to get their hands everywhere on each other at once. 

These past few weeks had taught them that raising a child left little time to fool around, and Aziraphale and Crowley were rather eager to take advantage of the short periods of time that Adam did allow them to have. 

Unfortunately, raising a child also taught them that more often than not you were much too exhausted to actually do any of that particular brand of fooling around, so Azirapahle and Crowley did little more than kissing before falling into their bed (a brand new queen sized mattress in the master bedroom, which still smelled faintly of a fresh coat of forest green paint) in a heap of limbs and perpetual tiredness. 

“At least Adam fell asleep,” Aziraphale offered up as one of those _silver linings_ condolences that didn’t actually mean as much as one thought they did.

Crowley just let out a low groan and planted his nose into Aziraphale’s chest. 

Aziraphale hummed, lifted a hand, and started running his fingers through Crowley’s hair and pushing lightly against his scalp. 

Crowley himself let out a soft little whine, wiggling closer and wrapping his arms tighter around Aziraphale’s waist. 

“ ‘mmm feels good, Angel.” He mumbled. 

Parenting had also taught them that, while they missed out on many of the more exciting and arousing times in their relationships, they got more time to play out these soft and tender moments. They had more time to hold each other and kiss sweetly and tell each other all the things they love about one another. They were able to smile more softly, speak about kinder things, and just _be_. 

So that is what Aziraphale and Crowley did. 

They let Adam sleep, and took a few moments to _be_.

And even though they were both quite content to just lay next to each other and speak in hushed and whispered tones, Crowley did have to talk about something rather important before he lost the opportunity (or, to be more accurate, lost the motivation to do it). 

“I’ve been thinking about something lately,” Crowley started. “Not anything bad. Just...something.” 

Aziraphale hummed, waiting for Crowley to continue.

Crowley himself frowned, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted to say. Aziraphale running his fingers through his hair was rather distracting and not a huge help, but Crowley also didn't want to tell him to stop.

“I don’t want Adam to know.” 

“Know what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“About us--everything.” Crowley’s frown deepened. That wasn’t quite what he wanted to say. “I don’t--I don’t want him to know about our Sides, or the Plan, or--or about who he really is or any of that. I just--”

Here Crowley took a pause, some strange emotion welling up in his chest and throat. It felt a lot like love, but there was something more to it that Crowley wasn’t entirely sure he could name.

“I want him to grow up normal, Angel.” 

That was the other thing Crowley was slowly learning from his new parenting role he had taken on. 

You wanted what was best for your children, and there was very little you wouldn’t do to give them that. Whether it was ripping the stars from the sky one by one, or keeping a part of your life hidden away so your child wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences. It frightened Crowley, how much he was willing to sacrifice to give Adam the best life he could possibly provide for him. 

But that was what love did to someone, he supposed. 

“What about us?”

Crowley shook his head. “Not even about us. No miracles, no wings, no nothing.”

Aziraphale took a moment to just let it sink in. 

It was a lot to take in—to know that you would have to hide a core part of your being from someone you loved just so you could keep them safe. It was even more difficult for Aziraphale to take in the readiness of how much he was willing to do so. 

“It’s not going to be easy.” Is what Aziraphale finally decided on saying. 

“No, it’s not.” Crowley agreed. “But it’s the only thing that I can think of—“

And here Crowley’s voice shook from the uneasiness of being so open with someone. It was that particular brand of uneasiness you had when you were being open to someone you’ve been open to your whole life, but what you were about to say was something you could hardly even admit to yourself. 

“It’s the only way I can think to keep him safe.” Crowley finished.

It was not wholly unreasonable to think that this was the best course of action. Lies could keep people safe, if used correctly. But lies could also damage and hurt and destroy if they were not handled with care and fragility, and Crowley had never handled lies well. 

Over the course of the next eleven years both Aziraphale and Crowely would be able to handle this lie with just the right mix of that necessary care and fragility, but it would all come crashing down on them in a single moment of panic. Neither of them knew this, and so they were content to think and hope that they would be able to keep this lie, and that they could construct it well enough that Adam would never have to know. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale mumbled it, pulling Crowley closer. “It would be better for him, I think.” 

Crowley nodded, squeezing Aziraphale just a little tighter. 

In that moment, in a practiced ease of silent communication, they both agreed to keep this part of themselves as far away from Adam as they could get it. 

He was just a child, after all, and he would be a child for a very long time. Children shouldn’t have to carry the entire weight of the world on their shoulders--contrary to both the Great Plan and the belief of Heaven and Hell in this Great Plan. 

At least, that’s what Crowley and Aziraphale thought. 

The baby monitor they kept on the bedside crackled (the saleswoman at the store had all but thrown it in the cart when Aziraphale had asked if it was really necessary), and then Adam’s cries broke through the speakers. 

Adam’s nap had not lasted as long as any of them had hoped for.

“I’ll get him, my dear.” Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s temple, then untangled their arms and legs and slid out of the bed. 

“Thankssss, Angel.” Crowley did not noticed his slip of the tongue. 

Aziraphale did, however. 

He smiled gently at the faint hiss, pressed another kiss to Crowley’s temple, then slipped out of the room. 

Crowley lay on the bed in silence for a moment, then the baby monitor crackled again with the sounds of Aziraphale entering the nursery. He was speaking too softly for Crowley to make out what he was saying properly, but whatever it as had brought Adam’s cries to small whimpers. There was a rustling sound, and then Aziraphale was humming the beginning notes to a song that Crowley faintly remembered.

It was a song from years ago and one he was fairly sure they had danced to all those years ago--a waltz, if he was remembering correctly, back when they had still been in France. They had danced to it in a town square, before the entire country went head first into revolution. 

Crowley shoved his face in a pillow as he bit back a smile.

He listened to Aziraphale hum for a while, imagining him gently swaying around the room with Adam (he was positive that was what the angel was doing). Then another sound started to overlay with Aziraphale’s humming, and Crowley realized with a rather sickening feeling that it was the television flickering to life in the living room. 

And since neither Crowley or Aziraphale watched television, that didn’t leave much option open to what it could be.

Crowley rolled off the bed, stumbling to get to his feet properly as he ran from the room. He went down the hall as quickly as he could, shouldering open the door to the nursery hard enough to actually hurt. 

Aziraphale startled, cutting off his humming rather abruptly. “Crowley, what--?”

“I think my Side is here.”

Aziraphale went very still. 

“Not _here_ here, but--” Crowley swallowed, eyes flicking to Adam. He was not fully asleep yet, but he was groggy enough to not fully notice the panic that was filling the room. “I need you to stay here with Adam.” 

“Are they…?” Aziraphale trailed off, but the question he was asking was clear enough to Crowley. 

“Just checking in, I think,” Crowley could hear the television getting louder. “But better safe than sorry, Azirapahle.” 

“No, no, I understand.” Aziraphale looked down at Adam. He was still holding him, and he pressed him a little closer to his chest. “We’ll stay right here, won’t we?”

Adam gave a very sleepy gurgle.

Crowley nodded, spun on his heel, then marched out of the room and back down the hall. 

Hastur was waiting for him on the television screen in place of Bea Arthur, lips tugged into a scowl and brows furrowed in annoyance.

“You never reported back after delivering the baby, Crowley.” was what he greeted Crowley with. 

“Didn’t I?” Crowely asked. 

Hastur’s scowl deepend into a frown. “No. You did not.”

“Huh,” Crowley hummed, throwing himself down on the couch (the leather one from his apartment. Aziraphale’s tartan one was in the study). He kept his voice smooth, but no matter how hard he willed it his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Well, the kid went to the ambassador. Just like we planned.” 

“And everything went smoothly?”

Crowley tried to swallowed back his hiss. “Jusst like butter.” 

Hastur blinked, looking thoroughly confused (he was one of the demons that didn’t get out of Hell much, so he didn’t really understand human expressions. He also didn’t know what butter was, but in the given context of this conversation he was assuming it was a good thing). “...well, that’s good, then.” 

“Yup.” Crowley popped the _p_ much more loudly than what was strictly called for. He was nervous, and when he was nervous he could very rarely control his speech patterns (it was a right pain, if you asked Crowley. If you asked Aziraphale, he would smile and then say he thought it was rather adorable).

They fell into an awkward silence, the laugh track of the Golden Girls the only thing filling it. 

Hastur, like most demons, was rather bad at the whole emotions department that came with a human body, so he wasn’t feeling the awkwardness as much as Crowley was. 

Crowley was quite ready to break that silence, but he had no idea what to say to do so.

“That was all we needed to know.” Hastur finally said. 

“Cool. Great.” Crowley tapped his fingers against the back of the couch, eyes flicking around the room. He had forgotten to put his sunglasses back in his haste to get out to the living room. He wondered if it was too late to miracle on a pair. “Ttyl.”

“T--?” Hastur started, but Crowley snapped his fingers and shut the television off. 

He waited a few moments to see if the television would turn back on. It would not, because Hell really wasn’t too worried about Crowley’s wearabouts or his Deeds Of The Day (Crowley was allowed a little leniency in that department because he _was_ still Satan’s favorite, which he wasn’t ashamed to say that he fully exploited).

Crowley took a deep breath, kicked his legs off the couch and all but ran back to the nursery, shoving open the door with the same urgency he had before. 

“Aziraphale--!”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale stood from the chair he was now sitting in (an ugly floral print thing that Aziraphale insisted on having), and Adam gurgled and made a sleepy grab towards Crowley. “Is everything…?” 

“Yes--yeah, its fine.” Crowley hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath, and he let the stale air out of his lungs as he took Adam from Aziraphale. “Hastur didn’t--he wasn’t actually here.” 

“Thank goodness,” Aziraphale let out a soft sigh. 

Adam wasn’t entirely aware of what exactly was going on, but what he did know was that he was rather tired of being angry at Crowley. He loved Aziraphale, of course, but he missed being held by Crowley and he missed the thump of Crowley’s heart and he missed the vibration in Crowley’s chest when he sang to him and told him stories. 

He missed his father like any child would, so when Crowley gently held him against his chest Adam held him back as best he could. 

“Are you two alright?” Crowley asked. 

“We’re fine, dear.” Aziraphale stepped closer, laying a hand on the small of Crowley’s back. “Are you alright?” 

Crowley took a moment to think about it. 

“I will be, I think.” he looked down at Adam, who--while fully asleep--was holding onto his shirt like it was his lifeline (and perhaps it was to Adam. He was, after all, still an infant who depended entirely on the man currently holding him). “I just...I just want to hold him for a bit.” 

Crowley must not have realized he said it, because he did not try to back out of the sweet sentiment like he usually did. 

Instead he kept looking at Adam, smiling something so soft that it would send Hell into a tizzy if they saw it. And Heaven as well, if we are being honest, because as far as Heaven was concerned demon’s were not capable of the kind of love that Crowley both felt and received. 

Aziraphale himself thought Heaven could go stuff themselves for thinking something like that. 

“I think we should call a witch.”

Aziraphale blinked, startling himself out of his thoughts. “Whatever for?” 

“For wards, protection spells--things like that.” Crowley still wasn’t looking away from Adam. “It’s harder for our lot to track things like that if it’s done by humans.” 

Crowley had also been missing Adam a great deal. He did not realize how used he had gotten to the extra weight and warmth in his arms until he had lost it, nor did he realize how comforted he felt by the soft _pitter patter_ of Adam’s own heartbeat. 

Crowley would not be letting go of Adam for a while. 

“I’ll see what I can find, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed the top of Adam’s head, then Crowley’s cheek, then the corner of Crowley’s mouth. 

Crowley smiled into it, rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s, then let out a long rattling breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to actually get back to plot for a sec


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @snap-dragon-pop

Witches are unusually hard to find nowadays in England, but lucky for Crowley and Aziraphale one had just moved next door about three days ago.

Her name was Rosa Device, and she was not so much a witch as she was an occultist, but really there was hardly any difference in the two professions. They both followed the same principles, they both required magic, and only one of them had any form of stake burning involved. 

As it was, Rosa had just moved in when Crowley had brought up the idea of witches (on instruction from one Agnes Nutter, Witch, who prophecy said something along the lines of _ye shall come to 689 in the old land, and ye shall help and protect the great beast_ , among other smaller details), and having a young daughter of her own and understanding that parental instinct, she showed up on their doorstep the next day with freshly baked bread and a spell book tucked under her arm. 

Azirapahle had been the one to open the door when Rosa knocked (as Crowley was currently fighting Adam, who did _not_ want to wear clothing, thank you very much), and he had blinked rather dumbly at her while Rosa smiled pleasantly.

“Hello.” Aziraphale said. 

“I heard you are in need of a witch.” Rosa smile became a bit brighter, and she held the plastic wrapped bread out a little further. “Do you mind if we come in?”

Aziraphale blinked again, looking from Rosa to her daughter, an eleven year old Anathema Device, who was currently hiding behind her mother's legs as she looked up at Aziraphale with equally wide eyes. 

“...I suppose not.” Aziraphale opened the door wider, stepping aside to let the two witches into the cottage. “Would you like tea?” 

Rosa Device’s move to Tadfield was as planned as it was sudden. She has always known she would end up here (as it had been foretold by Agnes Nutter, Witch), but the timing was always a mystery to her. As it was, she had just been recently divorced, and wanting to move both herself and Anathema as far away as possible from that horrid man, she thought it no better time to complete prophecy 3789. 

“Tea would be lovely.” She said. 

Aziraphale lead them into the kitchen without bothering to question why they were here or how they knew to come here. 

The kitchen itself was a quaint looking thing. The walls were a pleasant shade of blue, the cabinets a lovely oak, and the counters a cream marble. Plants were overflowing in the windowsills and in any open counter space, filling the air with a pleasant sweet smell to accompany the taste of bitter coffee and sweet cocoa. Baby bottles were fighting with the plants for the empty counter space, as well as dish towels and loose powered baby formula and an array of novelty ceramic mugs. 

It was a rather well organized mess, Rosa thought. 

“I do apologize about the state of things.” Aziraphale bustled around them, throwing open cupboard doors and drawers. “We only just moved, and it’s been a bit hectic…” 

He trailed off, losing himself in a cupboard stuffed full of tea and baby formula. 

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” Rosa pulled out a chair for Anathema, who wasted no time in clambering up into it. “It wasn’t so long ago that _mi amore_ was a baby—“

“Mama!” Anathema immediately protested.

“I understand the craziness of raising a child.” Rosa continued like Anathema hadn't spoken, but she did start a slow pattern of carding her fingers through her daughters hair. “Especially as a new parent.” 

Aziraphale looked back to Rosa. He was holding several different tins of tea and looked rather ridiculous doing so, but his smile was so sincere that it offset the entire thing. “It _was_ all rather sudden.”

“The best things often are.” 

It was at this moment that Crowley finally emerged from the nursery and into the kitchen, holding a grumpy Adam who was dressed in a green bear patterned onesie. He himself had his hair thrown back in a messy bun, and he wasn’t wearing anything outside of sweatpants and one of Aziraphale’s shirts (it was much too early in the morning for Crowley to give a right damn about his appearance, and after just wrestling Adam into proper clothing he wasn’t too keen to do it to himself). 

Aziraphale smiled brightly at both of them, thinking that they both looked adorable, and promptly forgot about the two guests he had waiting on tea.

Crowley paused in the entryway to the kitchen. 

Adam babbled happily at the sight of Aziraphale, his arms escaping Crowley’s hold to wave wildly at the angel. 

“Angel?”

“Hmmm?” 

“Who are these people?” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked like he just realized that he did, in fact, have guests over (and he may, in fact, have). “This is Rosa and Anathema Device. I was...um...I was making tea…” 

“You’d lose your own head if I wasn’t here, I swear.” Crowley both looked and sounded too fond to be properly annoyed. He huffed and rolled his eyes, and, figuring that Azriaphale wouldn’t have let these strangers into their home if they were dangerous, stepped fully into the kitchen so Aziraphale could drift over and kiss both him and Adam (he was still holding the tea boxes, mind you). 

(Crowley had a brief thought of miracleing one some sunglasses, but it was far too late for anyone not to notice, and Crowley was still feeling far too lazy to really care) 

Adam giggled, slapping Aziraphale in what was the only loving gesture he knew.

“Thank you, Adam.” Aziraphale said.

Adam giggled louder, and Aziraphale kissed his nose in response. 

Crowley, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Rosa, who was still smiling pleasantly and looking like she was ready to coo at Adam at any given moment (not that Crowley would blame her. His child _was_ rather cute). She did, however, catch Crowley looking at her, and in turn she turned her attention towards him. 

“We moved into the cottage next to yours.” She answered his unspoken question with a practiced ease. “I also happen to be a witch, and I’ve heard you’ve been looking for one, Mr. Crowley.” 

Crowley narrowed his eyes. He was fairly certain he hadn’t given his name. 

“And how did you know that?” He asked. They had, after all, only just made this decision last night.

“Intuition.” Rosa answered. “And a book.” 

“It’s a prophecy book!” Anathema pipped up. “It’s right about everything!” 

Aziraphale perked up—quite literally. His head popped back up, his eyes going wide as he looked at Anathema. Crowley knew exactly where this was going to go, and before it could go there Crowley shifted Adam to his other hip and gently pushed Aziraphale towards the kettle on the stove. 

“Weren’t you going to make tea?” 

“Oh! Yes—yes I was.” And with that Aziraphale’s attention was safely diverted. 

Crowley huffed, and Adam gurgled, then Crowley turned his attention back to Rosa and Anathema. He swept his eyes over both of them, then sauntered over to Adam’s high chair, set him down in it, then took his own seat at the kitchen table.

“So,” he said. “A witch.” 

“A witch indeed.” Rosa sat across from Crowley, which left Anathema sitting at the end, right smack dab in the middle of the two. 

Anathema wasn’t sure what she felt about these two men and their child, nor was she really sure what she should be feeling. They must be important for her mother to move all the way here, but she wasn’t sure if they were the right kind of important. Anathema knew there was the _important_ important people--people who were in charge of your future, people who were part of your future, bread bakers, book sellers--that kind of thing. Then there were the important people--the ones who would be a passing glance in your present, the people you absolutely had to talk too about things you didn’t necessarily want to talk about, sales representatives and some neighbors (“neighbors can be important people too, Anathema”). 

Anathema didn’t know what category these two fell into, even if her mother did. 

Crowley, meanwhile, was taking this moment to give Rosa Device a look over. 

She was a very unassuming looking woman. Her hair was long and black and piled atop her head in a bun almost as messy as Crowley’s, her eyes a pleasant shade of green, her cheeks round and flushed, and her smile one of the kindest Crowley had seen. She didn’t look like she would be carrying a knife or a sword on her, but then again, Aziraphale also didn’t look like he carried a knife or sword on him.

(not that he _did_ , but he _used_ to, and that’s the point Crowley was making here) 

Still, Crowley had to believe that Aziraphale wouldn’t let them in if there was any immediate threat to them or Adam. 

“I realize that showing up unexpected is a bit awkward,” Rosa was smiling again, but this time she was gently setting the loaf of bread in the center of the table, taking her time to carefully unwrap it. “But I also know that freshly baked bread is a wonderful conversation starter.” 

Crowley hummed, breaking off a piece a little larger than a crumb and popping it in his mouth.

It was rather good bread. 

Adam immediately made grabby hands at the second piece Crowley broke off. Not that he could reach it (as he was in his high chair), but he would certainly make his intention known.

“You’re not old enough for solid food, love.” Crowley chewed and swallowed the second piece, and Adam’s face scrunched up in the usual manner it did before he started wailing and crying.

Aziraphale swooped in before Adam could even open his mouth, setting down the tea tray and scooping up Adam in a practice ease. Adam himself was too confused by this sudden change in height and scenery to throw a proper fit, and Aziraphale used that to his full advantage and began walking around the kitchen to calm Adam down before anything really started. 

“You’ll just have to wait a few more months, and then you can eat all the bread you want.” Aziraphale explained, gently rocking Adam as he made a loop around the kitchen.

Adam seemed satisfied with that explanation, because he made no further attempt to cry and instead face planted into Aziraphale’s chest and stayed there. 

“Shall we get to work then?” Rosa asked.

 

\--

 

In the end they let Rosa place a few protection spells around the house, nail a horseshoe above the front door and the door to Adam’s nursery, lay down a few wards, and stay for another cup of tea. 

She really was a charming and kind woman, and they left both her and Anathema with an open invitation to the cottage. 

They sat in the living room now (on the leather couch, not the tartan one), Crowley with a sleeping Adam in his arms and Aziraphale with his phone in his hands. He was frowning at it, tilting it ever so slightly as he stared intently at the screen.

“Are you still trying to figure that out?” Crowley asked. 

“No I’ve got it--i’m just trying to see my text messages--” 

Crowley very carefully removed one hand from underneath Adam, then tapped the messages app. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked in pleasant surprise (he had, despite what he said, absolutely not figured it out). “Thank you, dear.”

He then tapped the text conversation that had just started with Rosa, ducked his head back down, and took a painstakingly long time to type back a response. 

Crowley himself tucked his hand back underneath Adam, readjusted his hold, then dropped his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder to eavesdrop in on the conversation with Rosa. It would seem she was inviting them over to dinner at the end of the week, and Aziraphale was more than happy to accept, but he would have to double check with Crowley, of course--

“Just tell her yes, Angel.” 

Aziraphale paused in his typing, deleted everything he had written, then responded with of course they would love to, and is there anything at all we should bring?

Crowley rolled his eyes. “ _She’s_ inviting _us_. We don’t have to bring anything.”

“It’s the polite thing to do,” Aziraphale didn’t once pause in his typing.

Crowley let out a little _humphf_. He would probably bring something anyway, as a proper thank you. He really was quite grateful or everything that Rosa did today, and he wanted to thank her the right way and not just with a smile and a nod and a thinly veiled threat to stay out of the house. 

He sighed, then looked down at Adam. 

“You’re making me go soft.” Crowley mumbled.

Adam didn’t even twitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a lot shorter than usual, but if i had kept going we would have gotten into next chapter stuff and then it would have been a lot longer than usual.
> 
> (I don't think they ever gave Anathema's mother a name, so we're rolling with what I gave her)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on tumblr @snap-dragon-pop

Teething was something Crowley hadn’t prepared for (he wasn’t, to be totally honest, even aware that was something babies did), but as soon as Adam started wailing and munching on anything that might provide comfort Crowley armed himself with teething toys, a rather horrid amount of tea that would make even Aziraphale flinch, and a sympathetic ear from Rosa. 

“It gets better,” Rosa was currently sitting in the living room on the couch (the leather one, not the tartan one), sipping tea from a chipped white mug while Crowley was pacing around the room with a wailing Adam, looking for the teething ring that the baby had thrown at Crowley in an earlier fit of anger and general grumpiness. 

(Anathema was off at a friends house today. She liked Adam well enough, but no one really wanted to be around a grumpy child if they could help it)

“I certainly hope so.” Crowley sounded rather breathless, but he had found the teething ring, and he elected to ignore it in his moment of victory.

(It wasn’t often that Crowley forgot to do human things, like breathing and blinking for example, but these past few weeks _had_ been rather exhausting on the poor demon)

Adam snatched it from his hand. 

He shoved it in his mouth and started gnawing away, much to the delight of his father. 

“It will, I promise.” Rosa gave him a smile over the rim of her mug. She very rarely ever broke her promises. 

It was silent for a blessed moment, then Adam threw the ring and started wailing again.

Crowley immediately swooped down to pick it up again, performing a small miracle that no one would miss to ensure it was clean (not that he was particularly worried about the cleanliness of things, but Aziraphale _was_ , and he would have a right fit if he knew Crowley was giving their child things off the floor). “I know it hurts, but this is the only thing I have that’ll help.” 

Adam went silent for a moment, contemplating Crowley’s words. Then he screwed up his face, started wailing louder, and knocked the ring out of Crowley’s hand. 

“It might not be cold enough,” Rosa set her mug on the side table, sliding from the couch to pick up the ring in a fluid motion that didn’t not remind Crowley of a snake, then stood. “Do you have another one in the freezer?” 

Crowley blinked slowly. 

It hadn’t occurred to him to put anything in the freezer (due to the sole fact that Crowley himself hated cold things, so he naturally assumed his son was the same way). 

(not that Crowley was wrong, per say. The only cold things Adam actually liked so far in his six months of life was Crowley himself and the teething rings)

Rosa gave Crowley that patient smile she always seemed to have when she was around him. “I’ll wash this off.”

Crowley blinked again. “I’ll um...put the others in the freezer, then.” 

Adam, who was quickly coming to the realization that he would have to wait again for relief, gave one last valiant cry. Then he face planted into Crowley’s chest and sucked a decent portion of Crowley’s shirt into his mouth in retaliation. 

Crowley himself gave a quite sight of resignation before marching off to the nursery to gather the horde of teething toys. 

He had gotten rather used to Adam chewing on his shirts, and learned very early on that it was best not to fight his son on it (as Adam usually came out the victor). 

Aziraphale himself was gone, as it was one of those rare days where he actually had to open the bookshop. Although, if we are to keep things fair, he was suffering about as much as Crowley was (Aziraphale well and truly hated having to actually run his business for more than thirty minutes at a time, and his current customer was what could best be described as a _Karen_ ).

Crowley wanted Aziraphale home just as much as Aziraphale wanted to be home, but as it was he was stuck in the shop for another hour, at the least. 

“I really do wish I could do more for you, love.” Crowley said it as softly as he could, pushing his hip into the nursery door to close it.

Adam had just about run out of air in his lungs, and now was sniffing and hiccuping into Crowley’s shoulder. 

“I don’t really know what it’s like to get a whole new set of teeth, but I have had to get used to a whole new body. That’s about the same level of uncomfortableness, I would think.” Crowley spotted the toys on the top of the dresser. “All these new parts and functions--I never really did get the hang of limbs.”

He made a beeline towards the dresser.

Adam looked up at Crowley. He sniffed, and Crowley took a pause to wipe away the tears and snot with the hem of his shirt. 

“I can work them well enough--well enough to not drop you, at any rate,” Crowley continued, gently wiping away the dried snot and tears around Adam’s nose and eyes. “But they certainly still give me trouble. It’s because they’re too stiff, I think. I’m used to being more wiggly.”

Adam giggled at that. 

“Wiggly is the way to go, Adam.” Crowley smiled, and--once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his child’s face--pressed a kiss to his nose. 

Then he snatched the toys from the dresser, gave one to Adam to hold on to, then sauntered back into the kitchen. 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale arrived home exactly an hour and a half later. 

He was greeted by the sight of Crowley and Rosa sitting at the kitchen table, each with mugs in hand and discussing flowers and spells and the future. Meanwhile Adam was fast asleep in his cradle (which had been moved from the living room to the kitchen, because it was much easier for Crowley to keep an eye on him), holding onto the leather jacket and a teething ring. 

What ever sour mood Aziraphale had been in was quickly replaced with a happy one. 

“Angel!” Crowley’s bright smile dispelled any lingering unhappiness in Aziraphale, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from crossing the room to give Crowley the softest kiss he could possibly manage. 

When he pulled back Crowley was still smiling, but he did set his mug of tea down (a lovely green tea, if Aziraphale’s sense of smell was correct).

“That bad?” he asked.

“Absolutely dreadful.” Aziraphale answered. Then he turned to greet Rosa. “Hello, Rosa.”

“Hello, Aziraphale.” she was holding her mug close to her lips, her eyes alight with stars and smiles. “Rough day at work?”

“Tremendously so.” Aziraphale sighed, then, “Where is Anathema?” 

“With a friend.” Crowley answered. 

“I’ll have to get her soon.” Rosa continued. 

Aziraphale frowned. “You can stay long enough to finish your tea, can’t you?” 

Rosa almost always had time for tea and the Fell-Crowley family, and today was no exception. She stayed long enough for Crowley to finally move Adam to a proper napping space, and she stayed long enough to chat with Aziraphale about unruly customers and fortunes, and she stayed long enough for Adam to wake shorty after, crying from the pain and the general lack of sleep. 

Crowley immediately jumped up to go calm him. 

Aziraphale watched him go with a soft sight. 

“It goes by fast, doesn't it?” Rosa placed a hand over Aziraphale’s, smiling when Aziraphale squeezed it back in a fit of nostalgia and pride he wasn’t quite aware he was feeling. 

“He’s almost six months old...” Aziraphale sighed again, turning back to look at Rosa. “It feels like we just moved in not that long ago.” 

“That’s what children do. They make time slow down and speed up all at once.” Rosa squeezed Aziraphale’s hand in return, getting lost for a moment in her own memories of raising a much younger Anathema (who was just as much of a trouble maker as she is now). Then her phone buzzed, and both she and Aziraphale startled. 

She pulled it from her pocket, glancing at the screen for just a moment. 

It was a text from Anathema, asking if she was on her way.

“I really do have to go now,” Rosa looked back up at Aziraphale, the slightest hint of regret coloring her voice. 

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Aziraphale smiled, then stood. “Thank you for staying to chat.”

“I’m always happy to chat with you, Aziraphale.” Rosa stood with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a brief--but no less loving--hug. Then she pulled back, giving Aziraphale a firm look as she dropped her hands on his shoulders. “If there’s anything I can do to help either you or Adam, let me know, alright?” 

“Of course, I promise.” Aziraphale smiled that particular smile that showed more thanks than what could ever possibly be said out loud. 

He walked Rosa to the door (because Aziraphale was first and foremost, a gentleman and a gracious host), and gave her one last hug (“give Crowley my best, alright?") before sending her on her way. 

Crowley walked into the kitchen just as Aziraphale closed the door, looking a little more disheveled than when he had first went to the nursery to get Adam.

Adam himself was on his hip, looking entirely put out.

“Did Rosa leave?” Crowley asked, making his way to the freezer. He pulled out a teething ring, handing it to Adam as he turned back to look at Aziraphale.

“She had to go get Anathema.” Aziraphale hummed. “She also gives you her best.” 

Crowley let out a _humph_ noise, but you could still see the smile creeping up on his lips (Rosa might just be Crowley’s third favorite human, but don’t tell her that. Not that you actually needed to. Rosa was well aware of her favoritism status). 

Adam, meanwhile, had finally spotted Aziraphale. He hadn’t known the angel was home, and he was so excited to see his papa that he threw his teething ring (much to the long term suffering of Crowley), waved his hands around and squealed and babbled in a high pitched and happy tone.

“Ahah!” Adam said. 

Aziraphale grinned. “Hello, Adam!”

“Ahah!” Adam repeated. 

He had been saying that a lot lately.

“You throw these around a lot for someone who gets fussy when he doesn't have one.” Crowley scooped the ring off the counter (and thank _Someone_ it had landed on the counter) and handed it back to Adam, who immediately stuck it back in his mouth. “These things have to be cold, Angel, did you know that?”

Aziraphale, in fact, had not known that. 

Crowley had gotten rather good at reading the different facial expressions of his angel, and he just smiled and set Adam on the counter (he stood right in front of Adam, because while he was fully capable of sitting up on his own, he still liked to faceplant in whatever chest was readily available). 

“I didn’t know it either, if it makes you feel better.” Crowley let his hands fall back to his sides, keeping a close watch on Adam. 

“It makes sense, I suppose.” Aziraphale finally pushed himself off the front door and made his way to Crowley and Adam, pausing for a brief moment to gather the mugs from the table and deposit them in the sink. 

Adam gave him a toothy smile when he reached them, and Crowley leaned into his side with no hesitation whatsoever. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley’s waist. The demon was so clearly exhausted, and Aziraphale--knowing full well how difficult it was going to be to get Crowley to step away from Adam for a moment and take a break--started formulating several different plans and distractions to get Crowley to rest and take said break. 

At the same time Aziraphale was thinking this and Crowley was wondering if he could take a power nap right here and now (for he really was quite exhausted, but he didn’t want to straight up tell Aziraphale that and make it seem like he was a terrible father and parental figure to this tiny infant), Adam took the ring out of his mouth and looked right at Crowley.

“Dada!” he said it as clear as day. 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale froze.

“Dada!” Adam started waving his hands around, demanding to be picked up. He was feeling a bit more needy that unusual, but Adam quite thought he was entitled to a bit more neediness as he was in a great deal of pain for a great amount of time. “Dada! Dada!”

Aziraphale withdrew his arm and Crowley picked up Adam, propping him on his hip on muscle memory alone (as he was much too startled to do anything that actually required higher brain power). 

They both stared at Adam for a moment. 

“Dear…” Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure why he was whispering. “Crowley, dear...he said your name.” 

“No he didn’t.” Crowley whispered right back.

“Dada!” Adam repeated, this time at a higher volume. He threw his ring again, smacking both hands against Crowley’s cheeks and giving him a gummy smile. Crowley could see a few flashes of white from Adam’s incoming teeth. “Dada!” 

“...oh.” Crowley said. 

His voice sounded different. It was higher pitched, slightly scratchy, and sounded wobbly and wet. 

Aziraphale decided not to comment on it.

“He hasn’t—I mean—“

“That’s his first word, Angel.” Crowley finished. 

Then Adam looked at Aziraphale.

“Ahah!” He said it again.

“I think—“ Crowley swallowed back something thick in his throat. “I think he’s trying to say papa, too.”

Adam squealed, babbled some nonsense, then stuck his tongue out a blew some spit bubbles. 

“He’s trying to…” Aziraphale swallowed and blinked back something in his eyes, suddenly feeling a rather overwhelming urge to cry. “Oh, Crowley—“

“Ah—no!” Crowley scowled at Aziraphale. “If I don’t get to cry, you don’t get to cry.”

“But he said his first word!” Aziraphale protested. 

“No!” Crowley repeated it, thinking that if he said it again it would reiterate his point and leave him the winner of this very small, very pointless argument (it would not, but Crowley didn’t really need to know that). 

Adam was rather oblivious to this exchange. He was much too preoccupied with the pain in his mouth, which had suddenly hit him all at one, and Adam did _not_ like that. 

He looked around for his teething ring with his own tears springing to his eyes.

“Dada!” he said it again (screamed it, to be more precise), then opened his mouth and started crying. 

“Oh shi--here, Adam, you’re fine!” Crowley snatched the ring from the counter and handed it back to Adam. “It’s alright, love. There’s no need to cry.” 

Adam stopped crying immediately. 

At the same time this was happening, Aziraphale had taken out his phone, intent on taking a photo for the scrapbook he had every intention of making but with no current motivation to do so.

Crowley frowned. “Really, Angel?”

“He’s just said his first word, Crowley.” the tone Aziraphale took sounded like he as chiding Crowley. “I want something to remember the occasion.”

“The screaming and crying isn’t enough?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and pressed the button.

Unfortunately for them Aziraphale had accidentally hit the video record button instead. 

Fortunately for them, however, Adam had looked up at Crowley at that precise moment, mumbled _dada_ one last time, then stuck his ring back in his mouth and curled right up against Crowley’s chest. 

An odd choking noise left Crowley’s mouth. 

Aziraphale gasped softly.

Adam closed his eyes and continued to bite and suck and gnaw on the ring. 

Aziraphale ended the video, saved it, and then sent it to Rosa. 

Neither Crowley or Aziraphale would be fully able to process the emotions they were feeling right now until later that night, when they were both lying in bed. Then Crowley would turn to Aziraphale, look at him like he was the stars in the sky and whisper _he said my name_. And Aziraphale would grin and kiss him, and they would realize that they were feeling a heavy mix of pride and love and wonderment and astonishment. 

And Adam would sleep peacefully that night, for the first time in several weeks. 

(Crawling would come exactly four days later, and while Crowley and Aziraphale most certainly were not prepared for that--even more so than the teething, some would say--they could hardly find it in themselves to be upset when chasing down a renegade Adam)

(How could they be, when Adam would grin and yell _dada_ and _papa_ before crawling and scooting over to them? You can’t be, is the answer to that)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean no disrespect to any Karens who may be reading this, but we all know the type
> 
> that, and all my baby knowledge is coming from me googling things as i go


	8. Chapter 8

Halloween was rather quickly approaching, and Crowley was nothing if not a stickler for the holiday. 

(Autumn was, in general, his favorite season. He loathed the chillness that came with it, but he adored the warm sweaters and the bright colors and the smell of pumpkins and apples and maple. He supposed that it also helped that the Halloween season was a wonderful time for temptations and general demonic activity) 

So, feeling the urge to bake a pumpkin pie and purchase an obscene amount of Halloween decorations, Crowley bundled up Adam is several layers of warmth, did the same to himself, then headed outside.

It was a bit breezy out, and Adam looked properly startled by the chill that hit his cheeks. A leaf smacked into his face a moment later, and Adam shrieked and babbled and yelled _dada_ and followed it up with a string of noises and sounds that Crowley assumed meant something like _what is that_? 

Crowley plucked the leaf off of Adam’s nose. 

It was a bright red with flecks of orange.

“Dada?” Adam asked. 

“That’s a leaf, love.” Crowley answered, handing the leaf back to Adam as he made grabby hands towards it. “It’s from trees and plants. It’s a bit like the plants I grow in the kitchen.” 

Adam nodded, then shoved the leaf in his mouth. 

“Hey—no!” Crowley pried it from Adam’s mouth. “You can’t eat that!” 

Adam pouted, his face screwing up like he was getting ready to cry. 

“You can hold it if you promise not to eat it, alright?” Crowley, like most parents, was truly terrible at denying his child anything. Even stray leaves that were caught blowing in the wind. 

There was a moment of silence, and Adam, deciding that he could live with that, took the leaf back and held (crushed) it in his hand. 

Crowley felt a burst of emotion well up in his chest, and he swallowed it down rather quickly with a kiss to Adam’s cheek. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket, snapped a selfie of him, Adam and the now crushed leaf, made it his new phone background and sent it both to Aziraphale and Rosa. 

Aziraphale responded back with a nonsensical string of emojis and letters. 

Rosa didn’t respond at all. 

 

—

 

Aziraphale was rather distracted with a conversation with a customer that could neither be described as a debate or a full blown argument, and at any rate he didn’t hear the little twinkling of the bell above the door or notice his two favorite beings walking into the shop. 

Adam, however, was thrilled to see Aziraphale.

“Papa!” He yelled, waving his hands and wiggling around violently enough that Crowley had to perform an odd maneuver to keep the child in his hands. 

(“I know I said wiggling was the way to go, but you can’t get too wiggly.” Crowley chided Adam while tightening his hold and twisting his waist in a way that should entirely be possible for a human being with a proper spinal column)

Aziraphale’s head popped up. “Adam!” 

Adam grinned and shoved the leaf (it really wasn’t much of a leaf anymore as it was more shattered shards of plant cellulose) towards Aziraphale. “Papa! Eaf!” 

“That’s a wonderful find, my dear boy.” Aziraphale pushed past the woman he was talking to (Crowley assumed this was the Karen that he was complaining about—and he was right--and he gave her the proper glare behind his sunglasses), gently taking the offered leaf and performed the smallest of miracles to make it while again (much to the annoyance of Crowley) before noticing the little plastic horns on Adam head. “And that is…”

“Halloween shopping.” Crowley finished. “Adam needed to get into the spirit of things.” 

Aziraphale frowned and scrunched up his nose, then let his expression settle into something more fond. “He does look rather adorable.”

Adam giggled. 

“I have more things in the car.” Crowley continued. “I thought we could start decorating the cottage.”

“We’re barely a week into October, dear.”

“You can never start too early, Angel.” 

The woman standing behind them cleared her throat loudly, and Adam, who did not like her solely on the principle that Aziraphale did not like her, flinched back and hid his face in Crowley’s neck. He let out a quiet whimper, and Crowley lifted a hand to cup the back of his neck and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Aziraphale said, not at all sounding sorry. 

The woman glared, her eyes flicking between Aziraphale and Crowley in an attempt to discern the manner of their relationship. She was the type of woman who was not very fond of anyone who was different than her, but she was not the type of woman to say anything to their faces. She talked about it behind their back instead, like any proper suburban resident. 

“I told you price wasn’t an issue.” She finally said, settling her glare on Aziraphale.

Crowley wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about, but the sigh Aziraphale gave showed that he did. 

“And I told you it wasn’t for sale.” He came very close to rolling his eyes. “You’re more than welcome to look around for something else.”

The way Aziraphale said it implied that she was, in fact, not welcome to look around and that she should leave. 

“But I don’t _want_ anything else!” she shot back, not sounding nearly as commanding as she thought she was. 

“Then I guess you’ll have to go somewhere else.” Aziraphale gave her a pleasant smile, keeping it all the way until she slammed the door on her way out of the shop. “Some people, I swear…” 

“What was she trying to buy?” Crowley asked. 

“A first edition Wilde.”

“Ah.” Crowley nodded like it explained everything (and, to be fair, it did). “Would you like to get coffee?”

“That would be delightful.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley’s cheek. 

Adam (now that the woman was gone) turned back to look at Aziraphale, babbled and smiled and smacked Aziraphale’s cheek and demanded to be transferred over to his papa. 

Crowley did so. 

“There’s a little cafe down the street I think you would like.” Aziraphale continued, easily adjusting his position to accommodate Adam. “They have a lovely selection of tea, and I do believe they have a hot cider in.” 

Crowley did rather enjoy cider. 

“Lead the way, Angel.” 

 

\--

 

The cafe was of a small and homey sort—a bit like Aziraphale’s shop, to be perfectly honest. It was warm and bright, it smelled absolutely delightful, and it was just busy enough for a pleasant background buzz. 

Crowley could understand why Aziraphale was so taken with it. 

“Did you want the cider, dear?” Aziraphale turned to look back at Crowley.

At some point during their walk here the leaf had ended up tucked behind Aziraphale’s ear, because Adam had refused to take it back and kept smacking it against Aziraphale’s face every time he tried to give it to him. So Crowley had plucked it from Adam’s hand and sipped it behind Aziraphale’s hair, and he was so taken by the bright splash it color against the curls of his hair that for a brief moment Crowley was rendered speechless as he stared. 

The leaf was still there now, and it was still just as vibrant, and Crowley was tempted to take out his phone and snap a picture. 

“Yeah, that would be great.” Crowley, never one to deny his temptations, took that wanted picture, them immediately made that one his phone background. 

(Crowley was in the habit of taking many pictures of his angel and his son, and he was in the habit of constantly switching out his phone background. He was also in the habit of never deleting any of these photos, but luckily for him his phone never seemed to run out of storage space) 

Aziraphale gave him one of those knowing smiles that meant _you’re such a sweet thing, my dear_ , then went up to the front counter with Adam in tow. 

Crowley pretended not to notice the implications of that smile, and found a little table in the corner to lay claim to. 

Aziraphale did not take long to order and the drinks did not take long to arrive--in fact, they had come within several minutes of Aziraphale taking a seat next to Crowley, and they were placed on the table at the same time Adam wiggled around and demanded to be passed back over to Crowley. The young woman who delivered the drinks (a university student, if Crowley had to guess) cooed at Adam and gave Aziraphale and Crowley a bright smile, wished them well and went back behind the counter. 

It was, overall, a brief and pleasant interaction, which was a nice change of pace for Aziraphale. 

(he had been having many unpleasant conversations with customers lately, and he couldn’t entirely tell you why. Although if you asked anyone, they would tell you it was because of the erratic hours that Aziraphale kept were quickly passing the point of erratic and into a much more dangerous and unspeakable category) 

Adam made a grabbing motion towards Crowley’s cup of cider, and Crowley miracled it to just warm enough and offered the smallest sip to Adam. 

Adam smacked his lips together, not entirely sure of what he thought of the taste. His parents had certainly given him stranger tasting things, and much more solid and mushier things. Adam liked that this thing was not mushy, and after smacking his lips one more time, decided that he rather quite liked the taste. 

“Dada!” he chirped, trying to take a hold of the cup. 

“No, love,” Crowley brought the cider back to the scalding temperature he enjoyed, moving it out of Adam’s reach and closer to Aziraphale. “You’ll get sick if you have much more.”

Adam didn’t think that he would, but Crowley had never steered him wrong before, so he stopped reaching for the cup and instead turned to look at Aziraphale. He smiled at Adam, and Adam giggled and smiled back. 

“Were you thinking of taking him trick or treating?” Aziraphale asked. He had never been himself, but he thought it would be a great deal of fun. 

Crowley had, in fact, not thought about it. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mine. “If Anathema goes, I suppose we could tag along. I don’t think Rosa would mind.”

Aziraphale hummed. “I do hope she’s alright. I haven’t heard from her in a few days.” 

“I’m sure she’s alright, Angel.” Crowley hadn’t heard from her in a few days either, and he was trying his best to curb his panic about it. He never deals well with panic and worry. 

“I hope so.”

Crowley reached a hand across the table, and Aziraphale reached for it in return. Crowley laced their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze and an even gentler smile. “We’ll stop by when we get home, alright?” 

“Yes, alright.” Aziraphale squeezed back. “Thank you, my dear.”

Adam, who understood the basics of this conversation to be that they were going to see Anathema, babbled and wiggled in delight. 

 

\--

 

The little cottage looked normal enough from the outside.

The flowers were still in full bloom, despite it being around mid autumn (although that might have something to do with Crowley being there. Flowers and plants were avid talkers, and these ones had heard many stories from the plants next door). The walkway looked just as pleasant as it always did, the front door a bright and inventing shade of yellow. The window, however, was dark and the curtains closed, and when Aziraphale knocked on the door it sounded dull and hollow instead of the usual bright and crisp sound. 

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, and Crowley bit his lip and shrugged. 

The door opened a few moments later, revealing a rather frazzled and poorly put together Rosa.

“Oh--” she sounded rather breathless. “Hello--”

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale spoke over her, not at all meaning to be rude, but seeing Rosa in such a state was sending Aziraphale into a tizzy and making the hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stand. 

Rosa blinked, and then her eyes started to water and her lip trembled, and Aziraphale was quick to lead her back into the house with Crowley and Adam right behind him. 

They went into the kitchen, where papers were scattered over the table and tea mugs cluttered the counter. Aziraphale lead Rosa to a chair and helped her sit down before bustling off to make tea while Crowley sat next to her, setting Adam on the table and reaching out a hand to Rosa. 

She took it and squeezed. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice sounded wet and broken, and Crowley blinked and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. “This must look terrible--”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Crowley handed her the handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes before holding it tightly in her hand. 

Rosa sniffed, then gave him a small smile. 

“Mama? I heard the door open,” Anathema poked her head around the wall and into the kitchen. Adam wiggled and clapped his hands, smiling and yelling _Nama_!

Anathema wandered in, scooping Adam up and propping him on her hip with a kiss to his nose. 

“Hello Mr. Crowley, Mr. Fell.” she greeted.

“Anathema, _mi amore_ , how about you and Adam go play for a bit,” Rosa smiled, some unspoken thing passing between her and her daughter. Anathema nodded and quickly ducked out of the kitchen, and that’s when Rosa started crying. 

“Rosa, dear, what’s wrong?” Azirapahle set a mug of tea on the table and slid into the chair across from Rosa. 

Rosa took a shaky breath and squeezed Crowley’s hand far past the point of uncomfortable. “It’s--Anathema's father, he wants full custody of her and he’s...he’s making a case to take to court…”

Her voice hitched, and Crowley scooted forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“Anathema doesn't want to go with him, but the courts won't listen to her and they’re hardly listening to me,” Rosa took another breath, and that’s when Aziraphale noticed a paper lost among the stacks stamped with bright red letters. “They told me to either give up custody or go to court.”

“They can’t do that!” Aziraphale’s voice rose, and at a look from Crowley he quickly lowered it again. “Rosa, they can’t…”

“They are,” Rosa gave a little wet sounding laugh. “God, I can't--I can't let him take her, Aziraphale, I can’t.”

“And he won’t.” Crowley spoke softly, lifting Rosa’s hand to clasp it between both of his. He squeezed gently and gave her a soft and reassuring smile. Whatever he had been expecting Rosa’s problems to be, this certainly hadn’t been it, and Crowley could feel her fear just as well as he could feel his own. “I promise you that.” 

Rosa’s own smile was pained. “You don’t know that.” 

Crowley just smiled a little wider. 

“I’ll have to go back to America,” Rosa looked down, her hand falling away from Crowley’s. “But I can’t--I won’t have him near her--” 

“Anathema can stay with us.” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley for a moment, then back to Rosa. 

Rosa looked back up. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask you to,”

“And you don’t have to.” Crowley spoke this time. “We’d gladly do it, Rosa, you know that.” 

Rosa swallowed.

“We’ll help you with this--whatever you need, we’ll help.” Crowley continued. “And if that means watching Anathema, then so be it.” 

Crowley knew all too well the suffocating pressure of having the threat of your child being taken looming over you. He knew the panic that came with it, and the franticness of trying to figure out every single precaution and measurement you could take to stop it from happening.

Crowley knew this, because he lived with this feeling every day. 

“Thank you,” Rosa said softly. 

“Of course.” Crowley squeezed her hand again while Aziraphale smiled gently at him. 

Anathema, meanwhile, was in the living room with Adam, sitting crossed legged on the floor with him between her legs as they played with several of Adam’s plushies that had seemed to find their way into the house.

“I don’t want to go back to my dad.” Anathema was explaining the situation to Adam, who didn’t really understand much of it outside of the fact that she might be leaving. “I don’t like him like you like your dads. He’s mean and...and he scares me.”

Adam frowned, holding up the plush dog to Anathema’s face. “Nama, no.” 

“I don’t want to, Adam. I really don’t want to.” 

Adam dropped the plushie and wrapped his arms around Anathema’s neck. He thought that perhaps if he held onto her tightly enough she wouldn’t have to go. 

“No go,” he mumbled.

Anathema hugged him back.

“I’ll run away if I have to.” She said. “I’ll run away, and I’ll come right back here.” 

Adam suddenly found himself feeling incredibly sad. He didn’t want Anathema to go anywhere, and in his sadness and worry somewhere in America a few letters on a document got switched around, and court judge paused in his reading and frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley seems like a hot cider kind of guy and you can and should fight me about it
> 
> I just moved a few days ago, and these past few weeks ive been packing and unpacking, which is why I haven't updated in a while


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on Tumblr @snap-dragon-pop
> 
> can you believe I've already written 86 pages of this and I meant it to be a oneshot?

On the day of Halloween the kitchen of the little cottage in Tadfield that bore the numbers 666 smelled of pumpkin and pastries and apples, and if you walked just close enough to the open widow you could hear a man singing about a crazy little thing called love, and if you walked even closer you could see a tall man with bright red hair dancing in the kitchen, spinning his husband around as a little girl and a littler boy watched. 

Aziraphale laughed as he tripped, falling into Crowley’s arms.

“You really are very bad at this, Angel.” 

“I told you I was.” Aziraphale smiled, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s shoulders as he helped him back to his feet. 

“I was hoping you were lying.” Crowley grinned, and Aziraphale smiled a little brighter. 

“Dada, papa!” Adam waved his hands around from his spot in his high chair, pointing at the oven with vigor. “Pie!” 

Crowley glanced over at the oven. “You’re absolutely right Adam. I should take the pie out.” 

“I can get it,” Anathema slid off the chair she was on, which was right next to Adam’s high chair, taking the oven mitts from their hook on her way to the oven. The oven mitts had a rather ugly floral pattern on them, but Aziraphale was overly fond of them, so Crowley was forced to keep them on that hook on full display for whoever happened to wander into the kitchen. 

“Thank you, Anathema,” Aziraphale lessened his grip on Crowley as he got his balance back, smiling at her as she passed them. 

“It’s no problem.” Anathema smiled back. 

It had been nearly a month since Rosa flew back to America for her court case (and had been calling Anathema at least once a day and texting Crowley at least twenty), and while Anathema fit in well in their life and their home and Adam delighted in having her around, it was very obvious she didn’t belong. She wasn’t meant to be a constant fixture in their lives, and while Crowley and Aziraphale loved having her around, they also couldn’t wait to get her back to her mother and to her own home. 

Anathema shared the same sentiment, and that first week she had expressed it to Aziraphale late into the night, sitting on her bed and trying not to cry as Aziraphale sat with her. 

“Nama! Pie!” Adam waved his hands around a little more vigorously as Anathema took the pie out of the oven. 

“You have to wait for it to cool down, love.” Crowley finally let go of Aziraphale, heading over to Anathema while Aziraphale went over to Adam. 

Adam pouted. “Now!” 

“If you want to burn your mouth, sure,” Crowley slipped on his own oven mits--a stylish black--taking the pie from Anathema to set it up somewhere where she couldn’t reach. Like most eleven year olds, Crowley didn’t trust her around sweets. “But I’m not helping you if you do.” 

Adam blinked. 

He thought about if for a moment, decided burning his mouth sounded like it would hurt a great deal, then stuck out his arms to Aziraphale. “Papa! Up!” 

Aziraphale indulged him. 

“What were you thinking for tonight, dear?” Aziraphale asked Crowley, watching him as he danced around the kitchen to obtain the various ingredients he needed to bake his other pie (an apple one, this time. Because while Crowley was more fond of pumpkin, he was determined to expose Adam to all the merits of Autumn cuisine). 

Aziraphale was, of course, talking about trick-or-treating. 

“I don’t want to be out later than nine,” Crowley himself did not care for the time constraints of the social etiquette of Halloween, and would in fact have stayed out later just to spite parents and teenagers alike, but Adam had a very strict bedtime that both Crowley and Aziraphale were loath to mess with. “And I suppose Anathema can pick the time we leave—would you mind helping me peel these apples?”

This last question was directed at Anathema herself, and she slid up next to Crowley and scooted half the apples towards her. 

“We always left at six thirty.” She mumbled, peeling the apples with a precision that Crowley wasn’t entirely sure an eleven year old should have. “But I don’t know if that’s different here.”

Crowley could feel his angel looking at him, so he glanced over his shoulder to look back.

Aziraphale tilted his head, then nodded at Anathema as if to say _even if things are different here, there will be so many temptations and miracles going on tonight that no one would notice if I pulled one small little one._

Crowley narrowed his eyes and jerked his head at Adam as if to say _I doubt things will be different, Angel, and even if they were what if Adam notices your little miracle, because in case you haven’t noticed our son is a rather perceptive bugger and he notices Things Like That._

Aziraphale huffed and lifted Adam a little higher on his hip as if to say _he’s a damn baby, Crowley. He can’t even walk yet._

Crowley tilted his head and cocked his hip and dropping his hand on his waist as if to say _he’s the antichrist. He’s smarter than your average infant, Aziraphale._

Aziraphale blinked and lifted Adam a smidgen higher as if to reiterate his point that _he’s a baby._

Crowley couldn’t really argue with that logic. 

“We can leave at six thirty,” Crowley turned back to Anathema, setting his knife down for a moment to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “If that’s what you want to do.” 

Anathema looked up at him and smiled, and Aziraphale basked in his win for only a moment before Adam slapped his cheek and demanded pie again. 

 

\--

 

Costumes were the next thing on Crowley’s Halloween To-Do List, and he was rather determined to insure that they all had costumes.

So now, if you walked just close enough to the little cottage in Tadfield that bore the numbers 666, you could hear the sounds of the television and festive soundtracks, and if you walked just close enough to the living room window you could see _Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin_ on the television, and if you walked even closer you could see that red headed man sitting on the floor and against the couch with scraps of fabric in his lap and in piles next to him, his husband next to him, and little girl and a littler boy sitting up on the couch and watching them. 

“I just don’t see why--?” Aziraphale sounded exasperated, as if he and Crowley had been arguing about this for a while. 

It probably was because they had been. 

“Because it’ll be fun, that’s why.” Crowley threw a piece of black fabric over Aziraphale’s shoulders. “And I’ve heard that vampires are all the rage these days.”

Aziraphale huffed.

“I think you’ll look rather dashing, Mr. Fell.” Anathema said, having heard her mother say that exact thing to men she thought were nice looking. She had been thinking about her mother a lot today, and her phone hadn’t once left her pocket. 

Adam waved his arms and wiggled around in Anathema’s lap. “Papa, ampr!” 

“See? They agree with me.” Crowley said, adjusting the fabric so it looked a little bit more like a cape.

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, alright.” 

He could say no to Crowely, but Aziraphale couldn’t yet seem to say no to Adam outside of harmful situations.

Adam knew this, and used it to his full advantage. 

“It’ll only be for a few hours, Angel.” Crowley, now satisfied with the lay of the fabric on Aziraphale’s shoulders, kissed the tip of his nose, then reached into his pile of fabric and trinkets to find something to fix the makeshift cape in place. 

He picked a red jeweled brooch from the pile and fastened it to the cape. 

“A handsome vampire,” Crowley continued. “Coming straight from Transylvania to sweep me off my feet.” 

Aziraphale flushed and ducked his head down. “You’re terrible.”

“You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s nose again, then stood just as the kitchen timer beeped to announce that the apple pie was ready to leave the oven. “I’m sure the pumpkin pie is cool enough, if anyone would like some.” 

“I’ll come help you.” Anathema handed Adam off to Aziraphale, dashing off to the kitchen before Crowley could even think to agree. 

He blinked, then glanced at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale frowned, _as if to say is she alright?_

Crowley also frowned, as if to reply with _I don’t know, but I’ll find out._

He turned on his heel and went to the kitchen, where Anathema hand on those ugly floral oven-mits and was already taking the pie out of the oven. 

Crowley let her, turning instead to the cupboards to take out a few plates and opening the drawers to rescue a few forks and knives from the mess that he called the silverware drawer. Then he reached for the pumpkin pie (which he had set up on the windowsill earlier), setting it down on the counter just as Anathema set the apple pie down on the other side of Crowley. 

She stayed silent for a moment while Crowley cut free a few pieces of pie, then turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Has mama texted you today?” 

Crowley paused.

Rosa hadn’t, now that he thought about it. 

“Has she not called you?” Crowley asked this instead, not wanting to upset Anathema more. 

Anathema shook her head. “She usually calls by now.”

“You know she wouldn’t call if she didn’t have a reason,” Crowley chose his words carefully, taking a moment to fall silent and think them out. “She loves you, Anathema. She wouldn’t do something like that to you.” 

“I know, I just…” There was a hint of the beginning of tears in Anathema's voice, and Crowley dropped what he was doing and turned to face her. “I really miss her.” 

Crowley gathered her up in his arms, and Anathema sniffed and hid her face in Crowley’s chest. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid.” Crowley kept his voice soft, running his hand up and down Anathema’s back slowly. “She’s your mum. Of course you’re going to miss her.” 

“Do you miss your mom?” Anathema asked. 

Crowley swallowed back something tight in his throat and thought of apples and warmth, of bright greens and mellow blues, of smiles and feathers and kisses and stars. He thought of falling, and the tears he shed and the feathers he burned and the regret he saw in Her eyes as She tipped him over the edge. 

“All the time.” he whispered, pulling Anathema just a little closer. 

Anathema sniffed and Crowley felt something wet soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t say anything. He just held her until she was ready to let go, wondering if She cared for him still, just as Rosa cared for her own child.

And She did. Of course She did. 

God cared for all her creations, all the good and the bad. And Crowley had been among her first, among the ones She was most fond of, among the ones She had spent the most time with and on, and he had been the one tasked with the most important part of Her Ineffable Plan and of Heaven and Hell’s Great Plan. 

And there had to be a reason for that, didn’t there? 

“I’m sorry,” Anathema looked a little embarrassed as she pulled back, glancing at the tear stains on Crowley’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I’ve had worse things on my shirt that this, don’t worry.” Crowley smiled in the most reassuring way he could, brushing her hair out of her face. “You can just ask Adam.” 

A small laugh left Anathema’s mouth, and Crowley considered that a win. 

“Now, let’s get this pie in the living room before they rebel.” 

Anathema smiled and nodded, wiping away a few stray tears with the back of her hand. 

Crowley gave her a tissue he miracled into his pocket, cut her a bigger slice of pie than what she probably should have, and carried all three plates into the living room while Anathema lead the way and made sure he didn’t bump into anything or trip over Adam’s quickly growing toy collection. 

(A toy collection that really did need to stay in its designated dog patterned bin, but Adam had an uncanny ability to make sure he had easy access to them, which meant that they stayed out of it, despite Crowley constantly throwing them back in)

“Is she alright?” Aziraphale asked softly, accepting the plate Crowley handed to him and scooting over so Crowley had a little bit more room to sit. 

“She is now.” Crowley responded just as softly, lifting Adam from Aziraphale’s lap and setting him in his own. 

Adam wrinkled his nose and frowned. 

“Nama otay?” he asked, looking between his fathers before looking at Anathema. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Anathema sat next to Crowley, smiling brightly at Adam to ease his worry. “Sorry for making you worry, little guy.”

Adam accepted the apology, gave Anathema a toothy grin, then looked back to Aziraphale and waved his hands around. “Pie!” 

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale scooped a small bit of the pumpkin filling onto the fork and offered it to Adam. “You’ve been waiting a while, haven’t you?”

Adam squealed, gripping the fork in his hand and shoving it in his mouth. 

Crowley pulled him back a bit so he didn’t choke himself, but other than that he let Adam do it himself (and he pretended not to feel a stab of betrayal as Adam grimaced and spit the pie filling right back out and onto his pant leg). 

 

\--

 

Aziraphale, Crowley thought, made a rather handsome vampire indeed. 

“I feel silly.” Aziraphale was holding the edges of the cape, inspecting it and the rest of the outfit Crowley had put him in (a white shirt, black trousers and a rather handsome and form fitting waistcoat).

“I think you look wonderful, Angel.” Crowley smiled, kissing Aziraphale because he couldn’t quite seem to resist when he was dressed up like this. 

Crowley was dressed in much the same was as Aziraphale, and he was forgoing the sunglasses to give it a more authentic look. 

Aziraphale hummed into the kiss, only pulling back when Anathema came thumping down the stairs with Adam in her arms and a pillow case thrown over her shoulder. 

Adam had the little plastic horns back on and was donning a red fleece onesie and was looking a little put out by it. 

Anathema was in a velvety looking black dress, pointed shoes and an even pointier hat. 

“Are we all set then?” Crowley asked. 

Anathema nodded at the same time a knock sounded at the door. 

Aziraphale, who was closest to it, opened it without hesitation. His eyes went wide, and then he was grinning and pulling whoever was on the other side into a hug. 

“Mama!” Anathema dumped Adam onto Crowley as she ran, barling into Rosa and Aziraphale and squeezing herself between the two. 

“Anathema, _mi amore_!” Rosa knelt down, pulling Anathema into her arms and peppering her daughters face with kisses. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” 

Crowley couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face as he watched the scene unfold, nor could he help the kiss he pressed to Adam’s cheek in his own burst of fondness. “You made it back just in time. We were just about to go get your daughter hyped up on candy.”

Rosa pulled back from Anathema, looking up at Crowley with a soft smile. 

“Thank goodness I was here, then.” she pressed another kiss to Anathema's cheek. 

“We’re glad your back, Rosa.” Aziraphale was beaming.

“I’m glad I’m back.” Rosa smiled at Aziraphale, then stood. “And you, _mi amore_ , don’t ever have to go back to your father. I made sure of that.” 

Anathema was smiling almost as big as Aziraphale was. 

“Now, I believe Crowley was about to make sure you are pumped full of sugar,” Rosa continued, laughing as Anathema pulled her out of the house, Aziraphale, Crowley and Adam right behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on dragging this out longer, and then I thought no, there will be plenty of angst later on.
> 
> I realize it's only august, but it's always Halloween in my heart
> 
> That, and I just finished up my first week of the new semester, I need a new laptop, my car is making weird noises that are slightly concerning but I don't have enough money to be that concerned, and I've been awake since three
> 
> BUT the minecraft update now has EXTREMELY FRIEND SHAPED BEES and I look at them every time I start thinking about my shitty adult life


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little shorter than the others, but right now plot wise things will be a little shorter than usual for a bit

Crowley could appreciate the terror and horror of children's birthday parties from afar--and had done so on many an occasion--but finding himself thrust into the throngs of one was an entirely different matter. In fact, if Crowley had had his way there wouldn't even be a birthday party to worry about, but at precisely one year old Adam was becoming a right little terror and if he wanted a birthday party, then a birthday party he was going to have. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Anathema was looking at Crowley skeptically as he darted about the kitchen from her spot at the table. 

“Jussst--keep watching Adam for me,” Crowley waved his hand over his shoulder and dropped a whisk in the sink on his way over to the oven. “He likesss to get into the frosting.”

Adam giggled and bounced in Anathema’s lap. 

Crowley had made the decision a few hours ago that he would make Adam’s birthday cake instead of buying one (it wasn’t going to be a large party by any means, just Crowley, Aziraphale, Rosa and her girlfriend of three months--who Crowley thought was named Loreley, but he would have to do a quick scroll through of his and Rosa’s texts--and her daughter, Anathema and Adam) and he hadn’t quite realized the stress of wanting to get it just right. 

“I mean...if you say so.” Anathema didn’t believe Crowley on his not wanting help, but she was also smart enough to not push it. 

Then she leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Adam’s head and whispered, “Your dad’s an idiot, Adam.” 

“Ya!” Adam agreed, because he had noticed that his dad could be quite dumb. 

“I am not an _idiot_ ,” Crowley turned around to glare at the two of them, and the glob of cake batter on his cheek only seemed to further prove Anathema and Adam’s point. 

“Of course you’re not, dear,” Aziraphale breezed into the kitchen, having finally returned from his trip to the store. He set paper bags down on the table by Anathema’s elbow and tucked a plastic bag up on the windowsill where neither Anathema or Adam could reach, then drifted to Crowley and lifted a hand to cup his jaw and wipe away the stray cake batter. “Who's saying you are?” 

“Our son and his lackey,” Crowley huffed. 

“That’s terribly rude of you two,” Aziraphale chidded.

Anathema just smiled and Adam squealed. 

Crowley glowered at the two, jumping as the oven timer went off. He pried himself from the angel’s hold, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before darting off to the oven. 

Aziraphale sighed fondly, then turned to Anathema and Adam. “Do you happen to know when your mother will be arriving?” 

“Soon, I think. They had to go get Pepper from daycare."

Aziraphale nodded. 

Adam threw his hands up and yelled “Papa!” 

“Ah, yes, hello my dear boy,” Aziraphale gently took Adam from Anathema, holding him close and pressing several kisses to his cheeks. “And happy birthday!” 

Adam giggled.

Crowley, having finished whatever it was he was doing to the cake (miracling it along just a tad bit, if anyone but Aziraphale asked), sauntered back over to Aziraphale and Adam and Anathema in a considerably less frazzled state. 

“I can’t believe he’s already a year old,” Crowley mumbled it, his chest filling up with awe and wonder and just a pinch of regret. He felt like he had done so much with this child, but there were so many things he hadn’t done--and then Crowley was filled with a longing for time to go backwards so he could do all these things again and fill in the gaps with newer things. “He’sss growing so fassst.” 

Crowley sniffed.

“Please do not start crying,” Anathema, who had already gone through this with her own mother, was not keen to do it again (even as a bystander).

“I am not--” Crowley started, but then Adam reached over Aziraphale’s shoulder to slap Crowley’s cheek and Crowley felt something stinging the corner of his eyes. “--fuck.”

Then, “don’t repeat that, Adam.” 

Adam smacked Crowley’s cheek again. 

Crowley was saved from any more emotional outbursts by the pleasant chime of the doorbell. The front door opened a few moments later and Rosa was calling out his name and Crowley dashed out of the kitchen to greet her. They exchanged hugs and quick cheek kisses, and then Crowley pulled back and Rosa set a hand on the shoulder of the woman who was standing next to her.

“This is Loreley,” Rosa said this with a bright and happy smile on her face. “And the little once here is Pepper.”

Loreley was a tall woman--taller than Crowley. She had bouncy dark curls and darker skin and even darker eyes. Golden chains dangled from her ears and her neck, moons circled her fingers and her smile was just as bright and happy as Rosa’s. She seemed like a loud and unapologetic person and was, Crowley rather thought, perfect for Rosa. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Crowley offered her his own smile just as Aziraphale came into the living room, Adam held tightly in his arms and Anathema trailing after him. “Angel, this is Loreley.”

“Hello!” Aziraphale sounded a little breathless. “I’m Aziraphale--Crowley’s partner.”

Adam, who caught sight of Pepper, babbled in excitement and tried to make a lunge for her. Pepper’s eyes widened, but she must have decided that Adam was perfectly harmless to her, because she babbled in her own excitement a moment later and lunged towards Adam. 

“And this is Adam,” Aziraphale finished. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Loreley smiled at them both, adjusting Pepper as she tried to squirm from her mother’s grasp. “I’ve heard so much from Rosa about you.” 

“We’ve heard much about you as well,” Aziraphale tried to adjust Adam, but he was no longer in the mood to be held. So with a huff Aziraphale set him down on the carpeted floor, where he immediately stilled and gazed up at Pepper with wide eyes. 

Adam thought Pepper looked like she would be a great friend, and he was determined to find out.

Rosa looked faintly flushed. “Well, you _are_ my favorite topic of conversation.” 

Crowley placed his hand over his chest where his heart would be beating if he had a functional one, gasping as dramatically as he possibly could. “Oh, Rosa, you flatter me.” then he blinked, as if realizing he had a cake in the oven (which he in fact did), and dashed back off into the kitchen without a further word. 

Aziraphale watched him go with a fond smile, then remembering that he had guests, turned back around. 

“Let’s go sit--there's no sense in all of us standing in front of the door.” Aziraphale scooped Adam back up, ushering everyone else into the living room. 

Adam tolerated his papa carrying him until they reached the couches, then he squirmed again until Aziraphale set him back down. He babbled and pointed at Pepper until Loreley set her down next to him, then he smiled at her while his papa and the adults and his Nama sat and talked.

“ ‘m amn.” he said, smacking his own chest when really, he had only meant to tap it. 

Pepper blinked owlishly at him, then smiled and tapped her own chest. “Eper!” 

“Pepper!” Adam repeated, and Pepper smiled wider and laughed.

It was, Adam decided, going to be the start of a lifelong friendship. 

Crowley, meanwhile, was in the kitchen and fussing over a perfectly good cake. It was an angel food cake that would later turn into a strawberry shortcake, because that was what Aziraphale had wanted and Adam hadn’t yet had enough cake in his single year of life to develop a preference (although, by his second birthday he would have developed an odd taste for key lime flavor). 

Crowley was so distracted that he didn’t notice the cackling of the radio and the shifting of Freddie Mercury crooning at him to the static of Hell’s radio channel until Hastur was shouting at him. 

“CROWLEY!”

“Fuck--!” Crowley jumped and threw the spatula he was holding. It gave a dull thunk against the wall, then clattered into the sink as Crowley whipped around to look at the radio. “What the fuck?”

“IT IS TIME FOR YOUR YEARLY CHECK IN, CROWLEY,” Hastur continued.

“My yearly...what?” 

“CHECK IN,” Crowley couldn’t see Hastur, but he was sure he was scowling. “ON THE ANTICHRIST.” 

Crowley blinked, then swallowed. “Right, yeah, that...uh...he’s...fine?” 

There was a beat of silence, and Crowley was about to run back into the living room when Hastur continued. 

“IS HE DOING EVIL DEEDS?”

“Evil dee--oh, oh yeah he’s uh…” Crowley lifted a hand to nervously card through his hair, mussing it up in every direction imaginable. “He’s an evil little bugger, that’s for sure.”

Crowely was painfully aware of Adam in the next room. He was so aware of it that his chest actually hurt from the knowledge of it, and he sent up a silent prayer to whoever still listened to him that Hastur would get the hell off his radio in the next thirty seconds. 

“WHAT SORT OF THINGS IS HE DOING?”

Crowley grit his teeth. “I don’t--fuck, Hastur, he’s a _baby_. Everything he does is evil.” 

There was another beat of silence.

“I SUPPOSE YOU’RE RIGHT,” Hastur concluded. “THANK YOU FOR THE UPDATE, CROWLEY.”

Someone must have been listening to him, because the radio clicked and Freddie Mercury was back to crooning about good old fashioned lover boys. 

Crowley took a deep breath, slammed the spoon he was still holding onto the stove top, then dashed back into the living room. 

“Angel, I need to talk to you.” he slapped his hand aginst the wall, startling everyone in the living room.

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was hanging off the door frame and looking at him with wide eyes. “I--yes, of course dear.”

He stood, telling Rosa he would be back in a moment, stepped around Adam and Pepper (who were engaged in a rather fierce battle with Adam’s plushed snake and angel), then followed Crowley down the hall and into the kitchen. 

Crowley stopped in front of the radio he had on the counter, spun on his heel, pointed to it and said “Hastur.” 

Aziraphale felt his eyes widen. “Oh dear.” 

“He didn’t--he just talked through it--” Crowley threw his head back and groaned, then snapped back up. “They want yearly check in’s, Angel.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale repeated. “That’s not very good, is it?” 

“No, it’s not!” Crowley groaned again, although it came out sounding much more like a hiss. “If my ssside is checking in then your sssside will be too and itssss all gone to fuck and--”

“Crowley, dear, look at me,” Crowley snapped his mouth shut and did as Aziraphale asked. “It’s already done, and nothing happened. So let's just...let’s just let the panic sink in tomorrow and enjoy today. It’s not every day your child turns a year old, after all.”

Aziraphale was sure he was panicking just as much as Crowley was. Yearly check in’s were something he should have been expecting from both Sides and yet it wasn’t something he had considered at all. An oversight on his part, and yet...well, his son had just turned a year old and Aziraphale was going to celebrate it even if it discoroperated him. 

Crowley took a deep breath. “Okay. Panic tomorrow. Yeah, I can do that.”

Aziraphale smiled, then leaned forward to kiss Crowley’s nose. “Now why don’t you let that cake cool and come talk to our guests. Loreley is a fascinating woman--you’ll like her, dear.”

“Sssure, Angel,” 

Crowley took another deep breath, then laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s and let him lead him back to the living room. 

Gabriel would stop by Aziraphale’s bookshop a few days later, just like they thought he would. The visit would go about as well as anything with Gabriel can go well, but Adam was still safe, and that’s all that would matter to Crowley and Aziraphale in that moment. 

But until that moment Crowley would go back to the living room. He would sit on the floor next to Adam and Pepper and Anathema, and he would smile as Loreley told him her stories about her wild exploration of the countryside. Aziraphale would smile at how happy Crowley looked and he would smile and how excited Adam was to have a friend. Then they would smile at each other, and for now things would be alright in the little cottage in Tadfield that bore the number 666.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow hi yeah I have had literally no time to write lately. school has just been like, kicking my ass and I've been working on my own novel on top of all my English papers and readings so um. I am very sorry for the late update 
> 
> I'm also pretty sure Pepper's mother was never given a name, and even if she was I got super attached to Loreley, so it's sticking (also, did you guys know that my name is Adam? and when I first started writing this it was super hecking weird)

**Author's Note:**

> I am well aware that children are nowhere near as alert and functional after hours of being born as Adam is, but he's also the antichrist so i said fuck it and took some liberties


End file.
